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lovedazai · 1 year

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WHEN YOU LEAVE TO GO ON A LONG, DANGEROUS MISSION

ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo

p.s.! sending hugs + kisses to the lovely anon who requested <3 !! sorry i kinda got carried away :’)

DAZAI

when he’s strategizing and realizes you’re the best suited member of the agency for the mission, his heart drops. he knew being in a relationship with his coworker would come to this eventually, but he’s always been selfish.

he didn't know how he could make it that long without you. he's used to keeping an eye on you, always listening behind his headset, but this time you'd have to be on your own and he hates it.

he pores over the details of the case, forcing the logic to piece together that you’d be okay. he desperately tries to ignore the voice in his head telling him that you’d be taken away from him just like everyone else

it takes every part of him not to cling onto you when he kisses you goodbye. he sends you off with a smile, and it drops as soon as you’re gone, a stiff frown settling in its place.

there’s a noticeable emptiness without you around. his futon, just barely able to fit the two of you wrapped around each other, suddenly feels too big, and he can’t sleep.

instead, he stares at the moon and wonders if you were as restless as him, looking at it too. it made him feel connected to you, even if you weren’t doing the same.

he talks to you about his day as if you were next to him, just to ignore the crippling loneliness he thought he’d starved off for good.

he acts out more than usual, overcompensating for his lack of attention, even if it came in the form of a hard smack to the head from kunikida.

his stomach gurgles angrily at him, and he realizes there isn’t anyone around to make him a proper dinner anymore. he can’t be bothered to cook and falls back into old habits, opening bottles of sake and cans of crab. he knows you’d be mad if you were there, and the thought of you scolding him to take better care of himself makes him smile.

dazai hums as he flips through his suicide book, words familiar enough that he didn’t bother turning on a light to read them. he knew you’d be back home any day now. your message to the agency that you were safe had lifted a weight from him, but he wouldn’t be completely satisfied until you were in his arms again.

he pauses when he hears the lock turn in the door, sitting up with big, blinking eyes. its felt like an eternity without you, it almost feels unreal that you could really be back.

when he sees you in the doorway, he can’t even bare to move. his face breaks out in a lovesick grin, and he opens his arms wide. your suitcase is abandoned in the doorway as you run to him, knocking him back against the soft cushion of his futon.

his hands cradle your head, kissing you everywhere he can reach. “i’m so happy you’re home,” he still isn’t used to saying that word. “i missed you so much it nearly killed me.” his lips are curled into a smile when he nuzzles into your chest. he shakily exhales when you gently scratch against his scalp as he intertwines his legs with yours, pulling himself closer to you.

“i missed you too,” he’s so happy to hear it, his cheeks ache from smiling so hard. “were you okay while i was gone?”

“shhh,” he holds a finger up to your lips, suppressing a shiver when you kiss his fingertips. “that doesn’t matter now, my love! can’t we just enjoy being together again?” he hears you sigh, and he knows you see right through his poor attempt at deflecting, but it doesn’t matter, not when he finally has you in his arms again.

CHUUYA

when he hears the news, he assumes he's going with you. it’s no big deal, he’s actually kind of excited. when mori tells him otherwise, he thinks it’s some kind of joke.

he knows it can’t be helped, but he’s still pissed, thinking of being without you for so long, not knowing if you were safe. he doesn’t even want to think of something bad happening to you, but the thought creeps into his mind, dark and icky.

the last thing he wants is for you to think he doesn’t trust you, so he keeps his anxieties inside, helps you pack, and reluctantly kisses you goodbye. it takes a few muttered “just one more?”s before he finally lets you go.

it takes a while for him to adjust to you being away, and he desperately hopes he never has to get used to it again.

he has to stop himself from grabbing two wine glasses each night when he comes home, putting yours back with a resentful frown.

he hugs your pillow in place of you each night, hoping you come back before your scent leaves.

he lights your favorite candles, plays your favorite songs, finds himself ordering your favorite take-out just to have pieces of you around.

when he finishes a job and comes home with cracked, bleeding knuckles, he bandages them alone, pain so much worse without your kisses to make it better.

chuuya had long since left his spot on the couch, pacing back and forth in his living room. your flight had landed, and it was only a matter of time before you arrived home.

he runs to the door as soon as he hears the knob turn. he doesn’t even let you put your bags down before he’s wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you against him. “i missed you so fuckin’ much.” he presses his lips to yours, practically melting into you when you bury your fingers in his hair. “how are you?” he pulls away, looking you up and down. “are you hurt anywhere?”

you shake your head, giving him that smile he’s missed so much. he picks you up, holding your thighs as your arms circle around his neck, your bags floating behind him with his ability. “what d’you want? bed? bath? i’ll get you anything.”

“just want you.” you mumble into his neck. the answer knocks the air out of him, and he forces himself to take a deep breath, holding you even tighter. he drops the bags in front of the closet, and scoots back against the bed, sitting against the headboard, still cradling you in your arms. you’re already halfway asleep, exhausted from the plane ride home.

“get comfortable,” he presses a kiss to your temple, floating your favorite blanket closer. “‘cause i’m not letting you go again.”

RANPO

he didn’t care much for the details of the mission, until it was decided that you were going.

he’d thrown somewhat of a tantrum, demanding for fukuzawa to change his mind, but he knew it was useless; you were the only one in the agency who could pull it off.

he can’t even brag about how badass his s/o is when it comes at the cost of you leaving him.

when it’s time for you to go, he resists the urge to cling to your leg like a child and beg for you to stay. instead, he hugs you tightly, imprinting the feeling of your body in his. “come back safe,” he whispers, nose nuzzling into your neck. “please.”

he’s especially grumpy when you’re gone. he eats his breakfast by himself with a pout, apartment eerily quiet, food not nearly as good as it was when you cooked it.

he hates how much space there is in your tiny bathroom without your body next to his while he gets ready for work, glaring at your untouched shoes in the genkan on his way out.

and how exactly is he supposed to sleep well when he doesn’t even get a goodnight kiss??

cases thrown to the side for being too boring are now accepted; anything to keep his mind off of you not being around, or worse, you getting hurt.

he still buys your favorite snacks, an accumulating pile on your desk waiting for you when you return (he only eats a few of them)

ranpo knows exactly when you’ll be arriving home. he checks the time persistently, bouncing his feet as it gets closer. he doesn’t even wait for you to get settled; as soon as you’re through the door, he jumps into your arms, wrapping his legs around you like an oversized koala bear. “well?” he looks up at you, not bothering with greetings. “what are you waiting for? you have a lot of kisses to make up for, you know!”

he beams as you scatter kisses across his cheeks, dimpled from his big smile. you place a final one on his lips, putting him down to search through your bag. you say something about foreign snacks, but he can’t pay attention, his childish impatience gnawing at him. he’d been so deprived of your attention, and now that you’re here, you’re already distracted.

he wraps his arms around your back, forehead resting against the middle of your shoulder blades. “don’t leave again,” he says quietly; if it wasn’t for the silence of the room, you might not have heard him. “it’s not fair for me to be alone for so long.”

“i know,” you turn around to face him, and he crawls into your lap as soon as you do, his green eyes wide open. “i missed you.”

he peeks at you through his bangs. “how much?”

“so, so, so much.”

he smiles, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm before he intertwines it with his own. his thoughts of i didn’t know what to do without you are left unsaid. now that you’re back, he swears he isn’t leaving your side again, and there’s plenty of time for him to show you just how much he missed you.

BSD MASTERLIST

#dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #ranpo x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #edogawa ranpo x reader #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #dazai fluff #chuuya fluff #ranpo fluff #bsd fluff #💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖

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sxtaep · 2 years

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THE ONE YOU NEED - JJK

after getting dumped, jungkook finally had the opportunity to swoop in and heal your broken heart.

pairing — jungkook x female reader

genre — angst, fluff, smut

word count — 2k

warnings/tags — roommates!au, confession!au, softdom!jk, sub!reader, lots of cussing, swearing, reader is angry & upset, jk is in love w you, mentions of a bummy ex, crying, very soft, so much love, touching, romantic, sexual tension, hickeys/neck kisses, first kiss, explicit smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, guys), penetrative sex, soft dirty talk, overall very raw and soft

a/n: something short and sweet and a little fast paced 😰

inspired by this song 💗

“Literally FUCK HIM,” you curse whilst pacing around your apartment, clear frustration evident on your face as you threw a strop. Breakups were generally easy as it took a lot for you to get attached but this one… it wasn’t going too well.

You’d been in a mood all day after your boyfriend decided to call it quits all of a sudden because he felt you were “too high maintenance” which, on its own, was pretty offensive but that didn’t really tug at your chest. The fact that he couldn’t handle your high maintenance self made you wonder if anyone could ever deal with you.

At the moment, it looked like no one could.

Jungkook, sat at the edge of your couch, merely watched you pace around with his hands clasped together over his mouth, his eyes following your every move and being cautious as to not topple you the wrong way.

He learnt the hard way; let you rant for as long as you need to and soon enough you’ll calm down.

“Calling me, of all people, ‘high maintenace’, who the fuck does he think he is?!” You aggressively turn towards Jungkook, as if directing the question to him, and you know you caught him by surprise when his mouth fell ajar, practically speechless.

“He never spent time with me, never even acknowledged me, you’d think I was dating a brick wall!”

Yeah, Jungkook knew all of that. He knew your boyfriend was an ass and only showed you attention when he wanted to fuck, which you so willingly gave to him because you always grasped at ‘romantic’ intimacy, and Jungkook hated it. He bet the guy wasn’t even that great in bed since you’d always come back the next day in an awful mood.

“I can’t believe I spent all those nights with him. He couldn’t make me cum once, it got tiring faking all those orgasms.”

That’s his doubts confirmed.

You continue to pace around, spilling all your thoughts and dramatising your hand gestures until you stopped. Jungkook looked straight at you and his features softened when he noticed how teary your eyes had become; on the verge of spilling down your cheeks. He could tell you were trying to hold in the tears, but why? You knew you could comfortably cry around him.

Right, because on many occasions, he pointed out that your boyfriend was a dick, an unappreciative one at that and you decided to ignore his opinions. Your relationship was like watching a girl in highschool chase after her much loved crush who had no interest in her. It was kinda sad and all Jungkook could do was sit back and watch you get hurt over and over again.

If you were with him, you’d never be treated like that.

He hated seeing you in this state. As someone who deserved nothing but the best, seeing you upset over a stupid ex boyfriend made him feel all sorts of things; predominately anger, but that was a given. It also pissed him off beyond words because Jungkook had every chance to swoop you into his arms and keep you to himself, but a part of him genuinely thought you were in love with the guy, so he stayed put.

“Am I really too much to handle?”

Jungkook could’ve sworn his heart broke right then and there, and it hurt more seeing you cry over something that was complete bullshit. His fist was twitching (the things he’d do to punch the living daylights out of that asshole) but you were his first priority.

“Y/N…” he starts, getting out of his seat to approach your form, which looked even more fragile now than when you were mad. “Honestly, that guy has no clue what he’s talking about,” Jungkook tries to reassure you, leaning down slightly and reaching his hand towards your face, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears beneath your eyes.

The pout on your lips only became more prominent as your cheeks heated up from the kind, yet subtle gesture. That’s weird. “No guy wants a girl that’s ‘high maintenance’, is that what he’s trying to tell me? Because I know damn well he didn’t do half the shit I had planned for us—”

“—You’re not high maintenance, you’re eager,” Jungkook adds, bringing you closer to his chest so you could rest your head against him and cry to your heart’s content. “Besides, it’s not a bad thing.”

Your fist lands a punch to his chest, “Obviously it’s a bad thing if it’s the reason why my boyfriend broke up with me, stupid,” you say, through short, broken sobs.

Your roommate only chuckles, his chin resting on your head as he embraced you in his arms. “I don’t think it’s bad. I like my girls high maintenance,” Jungkook smiles ahead at the blank wall, hoping his words would be enough for you to catch on.

“You don’t mean it. You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you grumble, looking up at him with your glassy eyes and tear stained cheeks, expecting him to make a joke about it but nope, he seemed pretty content staring at the wall like it was the love of his life.

“I think I’ve had my fair share of handling you, and I’ve done a pretty good job at it,” he shrugs, showing you a sheepish smile, “because I care that much about you and I’m willing to put in the time and effort to show you that.”

Was he saying this in a romantic or platonic way?

“Your ex was probably the guy you wanted, but we both know I’m the one you need,” Jungkook whispers softly, leaning down towards your face, and you think he’s gonna kiss you, but he stops before your lips could make contact with his.

Your silence factored out his words being false, and from that, he knew he got you. “I know you felt what I said,” he calls you out on your bluff, pulling you away from him so he could look at you properly and deem his thoughts correct. He shifts his hand over to your chest, right above your beating heart, “…Right here.”

With the way you were staring at him, you were either extremely turned on by him indirectly confessing his feelings to you, or extremely heartbroken that literally anything and everything seemed attractive to you right now.

Who were you kidding? It was all Jungkook.

You finally speak up, your voice ten times quieter than it was earlier on, “And what if I did? What does that mean?”

“I don’t need you confirm or deny it, I know you well enough to know you felt my words in more places than one,” Jungkook’s eyes dance down you body to settle where your poor cunt was jumping between your legs, making it all the more obvious that you were clenching your thighs shut.

Shit. He was good.

He laughs softly, “How could he ever leave a pretty girl like you unsatisfied?”

A part of you still wasn’t convinced by his words, “If you really wanted me, you could’ve had me by now,” you throw at him, expecting him to stutter, but Jeon Jungkook had eyes on you for a pretty long time, so he had a lot to say.

“It’s kinda hard going after a girl who was too busy chasing someone else. You know I don’t roll like that,”Jungkook tugs at your arm, urging you to turn your back towards him so he could rut himself against your lower half whilst his hands slowly, yet with so much need, trailed up and down your arms, warming you up and giving you the chance to relax. “Besides, being patient always works out in the long run.” He was adamant on showing you the love you deserved and if you were planning to be ‘high maintenance’ about it, you bet he had a couple tricks up his sleeve to deal with that.

As if it were second nature, your body was acting on its own, easing into his touch as his hand slipped under your shirt, drawing small circles over your stomach. It wasn’t much, but this is exactly what romantic intimacy felt like, and it made you wonder why the hell you weren’t with Jungkook to begin with.

A pair of soft lips were grazing against your untainted neck, leaving short, supple kisses as they dragged downwards, giving himself more room. “Did your ex ever show you love like this?” Jungkook mumbles, too caught up in kissing you, but he didn’t need to hear you say no. “Why couldn’t he cherish you, huh? I should’ve snatched you up when I got the chance, how stupid of me.”

You’re unable to respond, your senses letting you down much faster than you anticipated and you could practically feel the smirk Jungkook was sporting right now, so you turn around to face him and boy, you weren’t wrong.

“Oh, that’s got you speechless?” He wasn’t mocking you, he felt sorry for you. These past boyfriends of yours never took the opportunity to appreciate the being that was you, never took the time to touch you or show you the love he felt you were entitled to.

He would be a dead man if he didn’t just do it himself.

“Look up for me, would you?”

You hesitate at first, but before you could bask the sight of his face, Jungkook had trapped you in a slow moving kiss. It’s not too fast, nor is it too slow, but it’s just enough to ease your mind and completely take over your being as your arms reach out to snake around his neck, eagerly pulling him in to deepen the kiss.

Your forwardness reassured him that you were all for what was about to go down and before you knew it, Jungkook was holding you tightly within his embrace whilst you straddled his lap, taking his cock like you were made for it. You’d completely forgotten about your broken heart; Jungkook’s constant care and reassurance helping you to disregard today’s events and focus on him.

All these months of watching you chase after a man who didn’t deserve you, Jeon finally had you to himself.

This wasn’t going to be ‘just a quick fuck’. The last thing he wanted was for you to assume he was doing this out of pity, but no, this would simply prove just how much he yearned for you. Jungkook’s top priority was to please you first and foremost.

“Bet that asshole couldn’t fuck you like this, huh?” His tatted hands grip the flesh of your ass, squeezing generously as you whimpered on top of him, masking the illicit sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you. His hushed groans joined in as he looked down to where you both met only to see a glistening mess of your arousal coating his length.

Never in a million years did you think you’d be in this position with your roommate and you only wished you realised sooner that the one who truly cared about you was right under your nose. You felt kinda stupid letting yourself go through useless heartbreaks and dodgy boyfriends when the one you really needed was here all along.

With Jungkook burying his face into the crook of your neck, things felt incredibly raw and intimate, not to mention, you felt so full, you wouldn’t need to force yourself to fake an orgasm around him.

“Gonna come..” You breathe out, your soft walls clenching around him as your hips moved up and down on its own, this time at a much faster pace, but Jungkook was eager to see you finish by his own doing.

His suddenly lifted his hips off the couch, thrusting up in you at such a deprived pace, knowing he was hitting all the right places by the pleasured look on your face. His arms snaked around your waist, his pace unwavering, “Right there, huh? That feel good?”

You nod without hesitation, ignoring the way your inner thighs were tensing in anticipation, waiting for your high to drain you.

“Go ahead and cum, baby. I know how long he kept you waiting.”

perm taglist: @aliceaflor5-blog - @kookiecrumb - @jjkeverlast - @prettyghost - @kooliv - @koobsessed - @gimmethatagustd - @pb-n-juju - @aslias17 - @ririlovesangst - @kootonins - @taehyungseggs - @dewamused - @jungshook7 - @jiminsneckkisses

Please do not repost my works onto any platforms.

#sxtaep #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x oc #bts fluff #kpop imagines #kpop smut #bts #jeon jungkook smut

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lupinmoonlight · 3 months

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First Morning Together

Masterlist AO3

Summary - An interlude to Domestic Bliss. After graduating from Hogwarts, you and Remus move into a cozy little cottage in Hogsmeade. Your first morning together results in steamy spoon fucking (879 words).

Warnings - age gap, spooning, smut, impregnation kink if you squint, my grammar, not proof-read.

Notes - I don't know what this is and I kinda hate it. I was longing for something domestic but also smut without plot so there it is. I know I have several requests in my inbox but I have had some serious writer's block. I will get to them as soon as I can! I am also planning out a multi-chapters fic with possibly my first ever OC. Let me know if that is something of interest :)

You still had to remind Remus that you were not his student anymore, that it was ok to touch you, to hold your hand, to have you. You were his now, after all. You had been his for a long time already, only now you didn't have to hide it from the world.

Yet, he was still so careful around you. There was still this lingering guilt behind every touch, as if he was afraid to corrupt you. The truth was that you were corrupted ever since you laid your eyes on him for the first time 3 years ago. And that corruption had led you to this cozy little cottage nestled on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, sleeping next to the love of your life for the first time.

That love of your life had been awake for a while already, savouring the intimacy of the moment, of having you all curled up against him, fitting so perfectly into the curve of his waist as if you were made for him alone.

Your favourite thing was to feign innocence with him, to pretend you were not aware of the effect you had on him. But you knew exactly what you were doing and now, in your first morning together, you could feel the unmistakable hardness pressing against your backside as he was spooning you yet you pretended to be asleep, subtly grinding your butt against him.

He groaned and tried to put some distance between the two of you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but your body instinctively sought out the contact, pressing yourself back against him.

"Y/N...I'm sorry. I should-" he started stuttering.

"Don't apologize, Professor," you said, turning your head slightly to give him a mischievous smile.

His body betrayed him at the sound of his title on your lips, his length twitching with arousal against you. One of his hands found its way down to your hip, pulling you more firmly against him, causing you to gasp. You were not used to this type of assertiveness with him; he was always so careful, so gentle. But now, in the intimate confines of your shared cottage, his resolve was crumbling and he was hungry, starved.

In a swift motion, he slid your panties down just enough so that the cool air of the morning kissed over you bare bottom, making you shiver. His erection was painfully hard now. He freed himself from his boxers and slid between your cheeks as his lips found your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your skin.

"Fuck..." he let out as he started grinding himself against you in a torturous pace.

"Remus...Please," you whimpered, arching your back in a desperate plea for him to be inside you.

You could feel his lips form into a smirk against your skin; he loved having you all needy and begging. Except now there was no time for teasing. He wanted you, needed you. He aligned his length with your entrance and slowly, oh so slowly, he pushed inside of you, his arms keeping you firmly against him.

The tightness of your body threatened to undo him right then and there and he stilled for a moment in a futile attempt to control himself.

"God...you feel good," he whispered as he found his rhythm, thrusting slowly but steadily into your welcoming heat. Your soft moans and whimpers did nothing to help him stay in control, his breathing becoming ragged.

He increased the force of his pace as his hand travelled down to your core, the tip of his finger teasing over your sensitive bud. You arched your back, pushing your hips forward in a silent plea for more contact and you moaned and he gave into what you wanted, that sweet friction bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

It only took a few strokes for your climax to hit you, your entire body tensing up as you gave in to the pleasure. Remus growled as he felt you clench around him, and any ounce of restraint he had was gone. He gripped your waist, anchoring himself to you as his hips drove into you relentlessly.

"I'm close," he panted.

"Please...fill me up. I want to feel you inside me," you begged.

His thrusts became unsteady as he approached his climax, his grip on you almost painful. "Ah...fuck. You're going to make me come," he practically growled.

With one final powerful thrust, he felt the familiar explosion of pleasure erupting from him as he came inside your tight hold. His hips continued to grind against you as he pumped you with his seed before finally coming to a still.

You could feel his chest heaving against your back, his length still pulsing as he was nestled deep within you. His hand came to rest on your belly as he imagined vividly how beautiful you would look with his child growing inside you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder and whispered "I love you" against your skin, pulling you closer to him, your bodies still intimately connected.

"This is how I want every morning to be from now on," you said with a hint of a smile in your voice.

"You know I can never refuse anything to the love of my life."

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #professor lupin #professor lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #smut #hp fic

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thisfanisgonesorry · 9 months

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ironhead — hobie brown

i got possessed and had an epiphany because to me this just makes SO MUCH sense. also i HATE writing accents fuck off. kinda mid i lowkey struggled w the dialogue idc the main point is that brother ties you up. i promise ill write him better if i write him again im just. THOUGHTS THOUGHTS THOUGHTS.

🕷

tags: smut, bondage, shibari, light dom/sub, i dont think hed like power dynamics, however; mutual light teasing (not a huge amount of dialogue, bros mouth is busy). tit play (i dont usually write this one, oh god), aftercare duh, lots of kisses cos holy fucking shit his lips look so nice SJAJAJA

(my reqs are open pleasepleasepleaseplease, ill write most of the guys from spv, pleasepleaseplease)

guys my beta reader died while reading this.. i hope its okay

🕷

“How does tha’ feel? Not dodgy?” He asked, tugging on the webbing. I was sitting on the bed, leaning against a pile of pillows as he made sure the web-ropes were secure and done up properly.

“Good.” I spoke, and he gestured for him to keep talking so he could make sure everything was going to go smoothly. “Uh, not too tight but not too loose. It’s fine, I think. Feels sticky.”

"Want me to walk you through this?” He asked, his hands resting on my knees. “This is a spiral futomomo, can y’move y’legs?”

“No.” I spoke, trying to move my legs, only able to shut my thighs together.

“This is just a basic star harness, usually don’t have the arms tied up. This one does ‘cause y’can’t keep your ‘ands to y’self.” He speaks briefly, his main goal is to get the point across to keep this all safe, and his secondary goal is to push my buttons as frequently as he can. He slapped the side of my tit, watching it bounce slightly. I took a sharp inhale at the unexpected feeling, and he used it as his chance to pinch my nipple harshly. “Then there’s a dragonfly sleeve to make sure y’stay still. Can you move?”

“No..”

“Good.” He spoke with another harsh tug and another slap, his eyes were glazed slightly as he admired the slight red hand print forming on the squishy flesh, forming very quickly — faster than he anticipated, the skin was just so delicate.

He repositioned us slightly, kneeling closer to me and trying to pull me to sit on his lap despite my efforts in keeping my legs shut.

“Darlin’, show me that pretty li’l cunt.”

I reluctantly spread my legs and he pulled me to sit on his thighs, nuzzling into my neck and pressing soft kisses into the skin.

“Can I get a snog?” I teased slightly.

“Don’t be cheeky.” He said firmly, ignoring me completely and lowering himself to my chest; making keen eye contact with me as he pressed a kiss on the reddening hand print, wrapping his plump lips softly around the areola.

He nipped at the skin slightly as his hand reached up to the other. He groped it for a moment, before pinching the nipple in his hand. There wasn’t an abundance of volume besides the wet sounds his mouth was making, though he noticed the way I writhed in his touch, groaning silently and breathing heavily.

His other hand dipped to between my thighs, feeling the wetness before rubbing his fingers in circles around the clit.

“That’s it.” He praised slightly, whispering into my flesh. “Good girl.”

I began to grind down onto his hand, feeling him enjoy his time with my tits. I sighed, throwing my head back and struggling against the sticky ropes.

“Baby..”

“Stop squirming.” He warned.

I knew I had no hope of getting out of his webs, and if I did, there’d probably be a consequence to fucking up what he wanted to do but god, he looked so delectable. So touchable. I helplessly tried to grind myself on his fingers, trying to distract myself from the way my arms were tied to me.

“C’mon, ask nicely. I know y’want more.”

“Pretty please? Need more.” I asked sweetly.

His own need began taking over him and it was blatantly obvious; I could feel his rock hard dick pressing against my thigh through his pants.

“Y’sound so nice like that.”

He slipped his fingers inside me. groaning and bucking his hips as he felt the soft, wet walls. His thumb slowly rubbed my clit as his index and middle worked in a ‘come hither’ motion. He worked me slowly, planning to drag this out as long as possible for his own enjoyment. His movements were meticulous, extremely preplanned, like he’d been sitting on this fantasy for a long time, but that strategic energy didn’t last long.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, love.” He groaned, trying to pronounce his words clearly despite his lust filled slur. He could feel the slight clench around his fingers, and the rest of his body got greedy with want.

“Keep doin’ that, right there, Hobes.”

He pressed his tongue flat against the nipple, opening his mouth enough to look erotic; He sat like there for a moment, catching my attention to watch him, a low groan crawling its way out of my throat. He had a smug grin as he moved to bite and suck on the flesh, his other hand no longer methodical, all it portrayed was an incessant need.

I let out a loud moan. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

Feeling the tight, squishy walls of my insides sent him into a desire filled stupor, doing nothing but greedily grabbing what he could as he worked me closer to orgasm. The feeling of his talented hands moving against my nerves was doing wonders, and it was doing those wonders quite fast.

He began grinding his hard dick against my thigh. “Y’so..” He groaned. “Bloody hell, you’re wretched.” He tried to joke.

“Coming from you.” I bit back, throwing my head back again as he kept fucking his fingers into me and torturing my tits.

“Wanted.. Had it all planned out. You’ve fucked it, yeah? So fuckin’ hot. Can’t resist.”

“Not my fault you got worked up so fast.”

“Don’t.” He grunted with a harsh bite. “You’re so tight, love, need to bury my cock in you. Need..” He groaned.

“Keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna cum.”

“Need’a feel y’cum around my fingers. On my prick. Let me feel that tight cunt, baby. Gonna fuck you all night long.” He rambled, pressing soft kisses on the flesh, watching the flowering bruises form.

He could sense the impending orgasm as my breathing got heavy and rapid, grinding against his hand messily and squirming at the restraints.

“Shit..”

“You’re so close.” He taunted. “Let me feel it.”

My mouth opened and closed like I was gasping for air, his mouth trailed from my tits, up to my collarbone, neck, jaw and eventually landed intoxicatingly sweetly on my mouth.

“Hobes.” I moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it with a welcoming groan.

“Y’re so pretty like this ‘n we still ‘ave all night.” He spoke, pulling my body closer to his as he moved his mouth to the other breast, planning to mark it up too.

“Mhm. I’m gonna—”

“Please.”

That was it. I couldn’t survive much longer, I tried to tug on the ropes but to no avail as I began clenching desperately around his fingers.

“Hobie, Hobie..” I moaned.

“Y/n, Y/n.” He moaned back in an attempt to mock me.

I slumped down, resting my head on his shoulder as I moaned loudly, letting myself unwind and cum all over his fingers. I kept struggling against the ropes and he grabbed my wrists, trying to hold it in place as he groaned at the feeling of my spasming cunt. He kept trying to fuck into me as I came down from the high.

I gasped and panted for air, leaning against him and he pulled his drenched fingers out, sticking them in his beautiful mouth before whispering. “Keep strugglin’ and you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He spoke, not as a warning but as a statement.

“Wanna touch you.”

“That’s why the ropes are there, love.” He breathed heavily, grinding his aching cock against the wetness, ruining his jeans slightly. “God.” He grunted. “You’re so sexy.”

“Go on.” I rolled my eyes sarcastically, leaning forward to kiss him.

— When he says ‘all night’, he really means it.

🕷

BONUS ROUND:

“Don’t fall asleep on me, darlin'.” He spoke as he quickly cut the webbing around my arms, before struggling to take off the harness without moving me around too much, laying me down on the soft pillows.

“Rope burn.” I mumbled tiredly, rubbing my wrists the second they were free.

“That wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t squirm so much.”

I let out a hum as an indirect response to let him know I acknowledge it. He removed the harness and began kissing my wrists slightly, looking up at me with soft eyes. He placed quick kisses on my neck where the rope dug into the skin as he lazily sliced open the fotomomo knots.

The second that one of my legs were free, he gently grabbed my calf and pulled the leg out so it laid straight

“Move around, stretch ‘em out.” He directed.

I moved my legs around, trying to get the stiffness out as he held my calf, pressing soft kisses into the skin before quickly untying the other and doing the same.

“Keep stretchin’ it, good girl.”

Once both legs were stretched out and he was satisfied with the amount of kisses littered over them, he raised back to my body, pressing a soft kiss on my lips.

“Can you get me a shirt?” I asked weakly with a grin.

He sucked his teeth as he got up, looking for one of his shirts that I could put one on and comfortably sleep in.

“Next time, I’m tying a vibrator between your legs.” He joked as he dug through the wardrobe.

✰ pt 2 >> LET ME HEAR YOU SCREAM

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smrtnik07 · 21 days

Text

librarians redesigned!!! by me!!! :)

the designs are free to use, i used this as a character design exercise for myself while recovering from carpal tunnel issues! read more for all the individual designs + me ranting :*

first off roland!! i included an angelica in here, i designed her before him, shes very triangular to me.. maybe a bit more messed up than roland tells us about, he is a biased narrator afterall. anyways i wanted his design to match hers nicely, so hes like a rounded square type of guy... i think projmoon designed him to be Just A Guy intentionally, so i played into it. overall the least interesting design of the bunch imo. its on purpose :)

angela !!! my baby :) an important thing here is her bangs. i dont want her hair to be able to recover from however many years she spent with the hard middle part in lobcorp, i think its cute to incorporate it still. swoopy, fluffy hair for her! and the clothes are just a bit more casual idk the librarian uniforms were kinda boring and stiff to me, as much as it does go with her character.. if u wanna be human u gotta experience the joy of sweatpants or whatever. also i didnt add color but i dont want her to be fully white<3 or fully clear skinned.. give her sunspots on her face. she finally gets to experience sun. :)

guess ill go in order of appearance lol. malkuth! whats the headband for if it doesnt keep anything out of her face!! since shes a bit more active than some of her colleagues, i also gave her a ponytail(its also for the silhouette...) also gave her some chubbier thighs.. also maybe a butler-esque coat, at least to me; i just made it a bit more form fitting than the original. playing into her personality or whatever. shes cute.. remember to take deep breaths!!

yesod!! i want to play into the skin issues a bit more, i still removed his gloves but i gave him a poncho, not just for the square silhouette im trying to build but for more coverage. also emo hair over eyes was funny. also wide flare pants for you, boy. just very square and put together in general

hod! this ones my favorite (i even cared enough to give her a pattern on that skirt!!) it was kinda bugging me how in the artbook i couldnt tell who was writing because hod's, malkuth's, and tiphereth's colors are so similar. so hod is pink now, and malkuth a bit more orange. i kinda went for a romantic poet thing here, dunno how much that worked out, but i think out of everyone you can tell shes the literature girl. gave her pigtails !! theyre cute :> also since i removed the coat decoration off of angela, i gave part of it to hod in the bottom of her coat :). cute and round!

netzach is a very strange man to me.. ellipse shape and loose fitting clothes for u. if i saw him irl i wouldnt approach him. not to say i dont like him as a character, i love him, but i want him to look like a depressed guy who would pick up art as a hobby to distract himself and it works. bro is just surviving out there. also gave him comfy clothes to make the surviving easier, down to the shoes and wide, id assume non-denim pants - maybe cotton? maybe sweatpants that dont fit around the ankle? who knows.

tiphereth!! since she's like the teen girl of the group i gave her a skater dress, converse, and a tied coat around her waist.. like how i used to wear as a teen when i was being a hater and recovering from a death in the family that changed my entire life (im still a teen ... 9 more days till im 20 as of posting this). also gave her fishnets i think she would like that. i imagine she would get headaches bc of those dumb braids on her head<3 or maybe bc her coworkers are kinda dumb<3

gebura :) round face, reverse triangle shaped body.. like a true butch lesbian stereotype.. i decided a leather jacket, docs and pants i see metalheads wear would fit her! red leather jacket, of course. also gave her spiky hair just like projmoon did<3 my favorite detail here are the eyebrows, i think their shape is rlly neat! nvm i think its just that gebura is rlly neat. anyways the eyebrows fit her

chesed my boy.. idk i just saw him and hit him with the transmasc beam and gave him , as the kids say, wh0re eyes. i wanted him to have rounder hips and just be round in general. turtleneck and cardigan combo also, i think he would like wearing that. also somewhat curlier hair, or at least wavy would do him well! and a tote bag, i dont doubt that he would go out to read in coffee shops if he could - so he gets a tote bag to carry his sociology books. i want him to look like he would give the warmest, comfiest hugs and be friend shaped

binah!! this one was the most challenging, trying to find the right place for the colors - to not use too little or too much yellow. i still dont think i got it right but this is as close as im getting. long face, long nose, siren-ish eyes.. messed up in the head bird lady that speaks like hannibal! i also dont think a dress really suits her so i opted for wide pants and a fancy black button up .. maybe angela styled her, who knows. also black fingertips which is a trait i like to give the arbiters (including an oc).. just my own little consistency thing i like to do :)

hi grandpa! ok for hokma i dont think the changes are that big? i gave him O shaped legs and his sword thing i turned into a walking cane, gave him a vest (didnt want to opt for a corset but i think he would enjoy the back support for proper posture) . also gave him a mild gradient from darker gray to lighter gray, since he IS the gray part of the ABC trio. gave him salt and pepper hair and an older face. forgot to draw it, but i wanted to give him a silicone tip for the sword so it doesnt dull out, which he can take off when recieving guests

honorary mention to go along with the angelica i mentioned with roland, i mildly changed up her twin(k) brother. i gave argalia and angie the same hair but mirrored, his a bit more curly and hers a bit more spikey, his face a bit more edgy, hers a bit rounder and kinder. not much else to say here, i liked his design as is, but wanted to add him here :)

#library of ruina #project moon #art i made #big project done wooo ! :) im proud of myself for setting a goal and sticking to it. are you proud of me. tell me youre proud of me

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takenbypeter · 11 months

Text

Nothing Like Ross and Rachel

Adam Warlock x reader

Words: 1259

Authors Note: kinda continuation to A New Form Of Intimacy but it still makes sense on its own

You didn’t know what you unleashed after that first kiss with Adam, but it seemed like now he found any and every opportunity to connect your lips together.

You enjoyed kissing him just as much as he did you, but sometimes you found it to be a little much.

For example, when he’s running out to complete a quick, and I mean quick errand, or when you’re going out just to greet Cosmo.

Though most of the time you did find the whole scenario absolutely adorable, especially on days when he would visit, excitedly telling you about all the good that he performed during the day. It could be the simplest of deeds; helping someone with heavy items, or helping an animal, and after telling each story he’d then wait with his golden lips puckered slightly and you’d of course lean down to meet them.

Because, how could you say no to that face, plus like mentioned before you truly didn’t mind too, too much.

But because of this, you decided it would be quite amusing to play a little joke on him. It was simple, all you had to do was avoid kissing him. How hard could that be?

Adam arrived at your living quarters that night at his usual time but this time as you opened the door to greet him, instead of your typical kiss, you quickly hugged him in an embrace. If he found this odd he hid it well as he easily adapted, reciprocated your hug.

You hastily pulled him to your bed which you did almost every night. He got cozy under the covers as you turned the radio on.

Quill had given it to you as a gift the last time you all dropped him off on Earth and you were honestly truly grateful for the gift, especially since you’ve been missing television these past few years that you’ve spent on Knowhere.

With the radio though, of course it was only sound that would be emitted but you two considered that more than enough, still finding the entertainment very enjoyable.

Recently you two have gotten into Friends, with you claiming it was one of the top ten most iconic sitcoms to come to, and together you’ve been listening to it each and every night. And of course if at any point Adam found himself stuck on a mission you would always fill him in the next day.

As you got everything you needed you finally ran to your bed where Adam was already waiting as he held the covers up so you could fit in his arms. As you crawled in between his sturdy yet welcoming arms he puckered his lips a little and although you noticed it you chose to ignore, instead saying, “this is my favorite part!” You shouted, as you began to sing along to the theme song while doing the claps.

You tugged Adam’s arms, crossing them around you as you lay your head on his chest. You would find yourself laughing every now and then but noticed that Adam would just chuckle lightly, seeming to just follow your lead.

You noticed Adam’s fingers start to rub the tiniest of swirls against your arms. And then after a few moments he then relaxed his hands resting them around your upper arms before he squeezed them twice.

You made a point not to react.

Adam, still not picking up on anything, leans down pressing his lips against the top of your head to which you scrunched up your face, “Adam please. I’m trying to listen,” you said, making sure you were firm in your words.

And with that all his actions stopped and he was no longer laughing when you laughed. You were actually feeling a little bit of guilt.

Feeling conflicted, you decided to take the opportunity to use the bathroom and get your thoughts together.

“I have to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” you said as you gently pushed against his chest. Adam reached out, keeping you from distancing yourself too much.

You glance at him and were met with puckered lips as Adam clearly was waiting for a kiss goodbye.

Instead you pressed two fingers to them before successfully separating yourself from the boy, “Adam I’m just using the bathroom,” is what you said and you watched as his lips curved into an obvious pout.

“What if something happens?”

“Then I’ll just call you for help,” you said and all Adam could do was watch as you left the room.

In the bathroom you truly couldn’t decide if you should continue this whole prank that didn’t seem to be funny anymore, or if you should just end it.

Eventually you came to decide on the latter and exited the bathroom.

As you came to the main area you noticed Adam was now sitting upright in the bed with his arms pulled to his side as he stared off into the distance.

“I’m back,” you sang as you walked closer to where he sat.

Before you could explain yourself he asked the question, “are we on a break?”

The question caught you off guard for a split moment as you sat at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, what?”

Adam pushes his hands against the cushions and shifts himself so he’s facing you. His eyebrows are curved in the center with clear worry written on his face as his eyes are wide. “Rachel and Ross fought before they went on a break. Are we on a break?”

“We’re not on a break.”

“You won’t kiss me! Did I do something wrong? Did I make you mad? Are we fighting?” His mind seems to just be coming up with more questions just as he expels them and you have to cup his face to bring his attention back to you.

“Adam we are not fighting, and we are most certainly not breaking up…unless…” your brain suddenly wondered if he thought of the possibility before, “you want to?”

You didn’t think it was possible but his eyes got even wider, “no, never!…do you?”

“No of course not! This was just a stupid prank I’ve heard about. I thought it would be funny but now it’s just upsetting.”

“A prank?”

“Yes, a joke…” your hands finally leave his cheeks as your head ducks down, beginning to feel awful about the whole thing you’ve put him through, “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was mad…I’m sorry.”

You didn’t expect him to become this upset, but in all honesty you completely understood his reaction. Truly it wasn’t even that funny of a prank.

You were really just feeling awful sitting there having upset both him and yourself but now Adam was the one to cup your own face, his golden fingers lightly resting against them.

He tilts your head up and you look into his eyes for a mere moment before he pushes his lips into yours.

You comfortably give in, matching his movements before you both distance from each other, but Adam kept his forehead against yours, “I’m just glad you still love me.”

You grinned, giving him a quick peck again, “I never stopped,” you reminded.

Adam pulled you back into his arms as you two resumed listening to the episode.

“I can’t believe you thought we were Ross and Rachel, those two are very toxic together. If anything were like Bananahammock and Crap Bag,” you added.

“Who?” He asked not having gotten that far in the show yet.

“Oh you’ll find out.”

#adam warlock imagine #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock fanfiction #adam warlock fanfic #gotg fanfiction #gotg imagine #gotg fanfic #gotg x reader #guardians of the galaxy imagine #guardians of the galaxy x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction

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dnsleif · 11 months

Text

malleus draconia x reader. 1.7k words, hurt no comfort disguised as hurt/comfort kinda im sorrryyyyyyy, yandere-ish but its literally just how malleus is in canon so lol, BOOK 7 PART 3 SPOILERS

Green flames take over your vision, followed by the sight of Malleus in front of you.

Everything is hazy from there on out, from the words the Briar Valley prince says, to the yelling coming from your friends in Diasomnia, to the loud beeping and Ortho’s warning that goes unheard from your ears.

The dorm seems to be in a mess of chaos, a panicked state that is overtaking everyone but you. You’re not sure why the scenes before you seem to be playing out in slow-motion, or why the faces you see are blurred and the voices you hear are jumbled together.

The only thing you can see clearly is the horned fairy whose facial expressions are slowly morphing into a Malleus Draconia you’ve never seen before, a part of himself that he’s worked hard to keep hidden deep in the caverns of his very being.

There’s more screaming. Malleus is yelling now, presumably—you can’t exactly hear the exchange. But you can see the pained look on his face and the way his mouth moves in such a hurried and frantic manner.

You thought that, perhaps, you were one of the only people in the world who knew every side to Malleus Draconia. The only person who knew his pet peeves and his loneliness and everything in his heart.

But with the scene unfolding in front of you, you came to the realization that there was no way that could be true. There was a side of Malleus that not even you had seen before, a side that perhaps he didn’t want you to see. But somehow it hurts. It hurts that you’re seeing him like this and it hurts that you can’t do anything to ease the pain he’s feeling now.

Even if you wanted to reach out, wanted to console him, to take his face in your hands and let him know that you’d always be there for him, you couldn’t. Not with the way bodies upon bodies are running out in front of you towards the fairy, ready to attack. Not when it feels like your feet are too heavy for your own body to carry.

And just like that, the haziness becomes all the more apparent as your surroundings are suddenly shrouded in a green hue. You can just barely make out the sight of ebony vines, covered in thorns, snaking their way across the room.

Your eyes are closing, your consciousness fading, mind becoming even more cloudy than before.

Before the last bit of your consciousness slips away from you, you’re suddenly aware of the sleeping bodies beside you. The faces of your friends, the people you’ve come to think of as your closest companions, all fast asleep.

The deadly silence paired with nothing but a symphony of quiet snores was nothing less than terrifying. You watched the thorns continue to latch onto the various pieces of furniture—it was a sinister feeling, horrifying.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the future king once again. He was different, a Malleus you didn’t know stood before you.

Green flames adorned the bottom of his cape, just like when he had first arrived. His horns glowed green, as well. You noticed there was ink seeping out of his shoulders, and his face was deathly white.

You thought he looked beautiful. No matter his attire or his form, he was always beautiful to you. So why was your heart clenching at the sight of him now?

The silence was cut off by the sound of his humming, a deep, low voice—one that you usually found comfort in.

But, somehow, for the first time in your life, you were scared of Malleus Draconia. Even though that voice was the one who called out to you in the dark, even though that face was as beautiful as the nights he laid beside you, you were scared—terrified.

That voice was not whispering sweet nothings into your ears—rather it was humming that deafening tune that made your stomach turn and your head cloud over even more. That face was not bashfully flushed at your hand in his hair, it was smiling at the sight of all your friends in a comatose state.

The last of your consciousness finally drifted off as your eyes closed. You were grateful, somehow, that the moment finally came. You thought that maybe it was better to join your friends in this deep sleep than to look at the man you love in fear.

———

You startled awake, eyes jolting open. Your breathing was unsteady, rapid breaths coming out of your mouth as you tried to settle down.

Just a dream.

Before you was the softness of your blanket and the sunlight of Twisted Wonderland peeking in through your blinds.

Your hands reached up to your eyes, presumably to rub the tiredness away and cope with the sudden brightness of your room, but your fingers were welcomed by a trail of wetness starting to dry on your cheeks. You were crying. Why?

The dream that had startled you awake had all but disappeared from your memory. It must have been a really bad one, you thought. It was strange, though, you can’t recall a single thing about it, yet it was horrible enough to bring you to tears?

You hear a low groan from the other side of the bed that you’re facing away from, making the tears on your face become all but forgotten. Suddenly, you’re aware of the arm encircling your waist, the grip getting tighter and pulling you closer.

You move a bit in the embrace, until you can turn around and see the person that is holding onto you so tightly.

A smile adorns your lips at the sight in front of you. Malleus, with his dark horns and messy hair scattered around the pillow, eyes closed with a small smile gracing his lips, is laying beside you.

A sleepy dragon, just for you. The Malleus Draconia that not a single other soul in this world gets to see.

He’s beautiful and you’re happy at the sight of him before you.

So, why do you feel the corners of your lips spread into a frown?

However, the frown is quickly replaced by wide eyes and slightly parted lips as Malleus opens his eyes. He’s sleepy, you can tell by the way he squints his eyes as he looks at you.

But however sleepy he is, that doesn’t stop the smile on his lips from growing larger when he sees your face in front of him, watching him sleep. It’s a lazy smile, one that has his fangs slightly protruding and his lips lopsided, but it’s so undeniably attractive coming from the ever-elegant prince.

“Good morning, my love,” his voice is groggy. He lets out a hum before nuzzling his face into your neck, still sleepy. The hum is deep, low and… familiar?

Did he sing you to sleep last night?

The thought was gone before it was completely finished as Malleus plants a messy kiss onto your neck. You sigh at the feeling and the sight of one of the most powerful mages in the world beside you in bed, holding onto you as tight as possible while peppering kisses onto every visible surface of skin his still-tired lips can reach. You never knew it was in a dragon’s nature to be clingy.

You love him, this Malleus in front of you. You love the Malleus that looks at you kindly as soon as he wakes up and the Malleus who wants nothing more than to hold you close to him and feel the warmth of your body right next to the coldness of his own.

As you’re thinking of him fondly, the dragon suddenly looks up at you, eyes wide and worried. His eyes are so unbelievably big and green, you feel you could get lost in them if he looked at you like this for any longer.

“You’re crying,” he says in a whisper, taking a hand off of your waist and reaching up to your face. Sure enough, when he pulls away, his fingers are glistening with your tears.

You’re crying. Why?

You’re not sure when the tears had started nor why, but the pit in your stomach that’s been there ever since you woke up from your nightmare hasn’t gone away.

Your lover’s face usually eases all your anxieties, so why, when you look at him right now, does the pit in your stomach grow larger? As he looks at you with his widened, worried eyes, as he wipes away your tears and whispers in your ear that he’s here, everything will be alright, why are you shaking even more?

And there it is.

In the background of your mind you see a flash of green flames and thorny vines and suddenly everything that happened last night is clear once again.

You shake out of Malleus’ arms, needing to be away from him after remembering the events from the night before. You don’t want to be away from him, you would never want to be out of his embrace, but right now, you need to. And he lets you, for he would never want his love to be uncomfortable beside him.

He lets you stumble out of his arms and he watches as you stand up, eyes still locked onto his own as you cry a seemingly never-ending cascade of tears.

He thinks you're beautiful, even as you cry, even as you pull away from his outstretched hand, even when he knows you’ve “awakened.”

But he doesn’t want to see you sad, especially not because of him. Perhaps this dream wasn’t satisfactory enough, maybe he was too simple in creating your dream—thinking that you’d be happy with just him, maybe that was just his wishful thinking.

He reaches out for you once again and you don’t move from his arms, you don’t think you have the strength to do so once again. He whispers in your ear, in that dreamlike voice that you’ve always loved, that he’ll do better, he’ll create a better dream for you, a dream where you’ll feel no sadness nor shed any more tears.

“Let us meet once upon a dream again.” He plants a gentle kiss to your temple.

His lips are cold.

And with that, your consciousness is fading once more and you think once again that this may be for the better—that you’d rather be in a dream forever than be afraid of the man you love.

#malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #erm idk how i feel abt this

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tartigglez · 1 year

Note

Hello tunblr user that I have NEVER spoken to before

Can I pretty please request dragon!zhongli doing dragon!Zhongli things

Like hoarding shiny things, and having a tail and hating random plants and squid 😭😭😭😭 idk I’m just hoping that something in this magically inspires your brain BUT feel free to ignore me

(I also really wanted to initiate ur ask box lol)

~ 🌷 anon <3

Why hello there tumblr user who i have also never spoken to! i hope this is uh,,, acceptable.

it was so hard to find a title for this oml

"my natural form...?"

zhongli x gn!reader

genre: fluff, pure unfiltered fluffiness, such fluff, many fluffitude

word count: 500-ish

tags: retail addict zhong bc we love to see it, possessive zhong, zhong hates fish zhong, protective zhong (hes a cutie patootie guys omgomomgomgomgogmogmHDKAJH), venti makes a cameo/reader is a traveller but not tHE traveller bc THEYRE MINORS I REFUSE TO WRITE THAT. thats kinda it

tw/cw: possessive dragon boi, it lowkey seems like lightly toxic behaviour but i think thats it

a/n: i wrote a little smol bit of this every night this week so its maybe a bit disjointed but whatever. this was fun to write ty tulip bb. zhongli is the cutest im so sOFT FOR THIS MAN AAAA. also send me asks, ples, pls, plsssssssss, pls.

dragon!zhongli who will buy pretty things without even realising that he quite literally has a retail addiction. will put things in random places in your house then get really confused when you move them. he keeps closely monitored stock of everything.

“darling, have you seen my golden vase anywhere”

“which golden vase?”

“the one i purchased last week, at the market”

“i put flowers in it, it’s in the kitchen”

“okay, okay, good”

“you seem awfully worried about it”

“i am not, i simply… wished to know where it was… is all.”

“i see.”

dragon!zhongli who is lowkey possessive over you but refuses to admit it, also he feels that jealousy is not a good shade on him. But he’s a dragon, and you’re his most prized treasure, so it is only natural to him to protect you, right? it can’t be helped. he's got a really good sense of smell, so he can always tell who you’ve been around in the past few hours, but won’t tell you because he's afraid it’ll freak you out.

(side note: he totally loves your scent and will compliment you on it all the time, like he’ll bury his head in your neck to calm himself down omg)

“my dear, who was with you earlier?”

“the guild had me teleport to mondstadt for a commission, why?”

“nothing my love, i simply- nevermind”

you look him in the eyes doubtfully

“tell.”

“alright. you were with the anemo archon, yes?”

“i was. i was sent out to windrise to fight some hilichurls, i ran into him and he helped me defeat them, why?”

“nothing, darling. the hilichurls didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“when has a hilichurl ever hurt me?”

“it is difficult to argue with that logic.”

dragon!zhongli who despite literally creating the harbour, refuses to go near the markets. he cannot stand the smell of the seafood that the merchants sell, so despite trying to “blend in” whilst in his mortal form, he will rarely be sighted outside the innermost parts of the city.

“li’”

“yes, dear?”

“shall we take a stroll by the harbour? i have a free hour this afternoon and we should spend some time together. i haven’t spent much time with you this week, and i've missed you.”

“i have missed you too, love, however i think that-”

“you think?”

“i think that it is rather cold, down by the harbour. Shall we go to the teahouse instead?”

dragon!zhongli who is unconsciously protective of you in his sleep. he will wrap his tail around your form when cuddling, as a literal natural response. puts it around your waist and between your arms whilst spooning you so you can hug it like a teddy bear whilst he puts little kisses on your shoulders as you doze off. tells you the stories of years gone by as you sleep to vent his worries.

“li’”

“darling?”

“tell a story”

“must i?”

“yes, you must!”

“very well my dear, close your eyes.”

#zhongli #zhongli headcanons #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #cael is talking to 🌷 anon :0

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year

Note

I just refound my hyperfixation with franken stein from soul eater and was wondering if you would write nsfw stein/maid! Reader?

Sure, thanks for the ask, and sorry for the wait!

SE Franken Stein x Maid!Reader 🍋 - Commands

Summary: Your new employer decides to correct you after finding your service to not be up to his standards.

Warning: Rough, unprotexted sex, hard dom!stein, sub!reader, fem!reader, service!sub, kinda short

"(Y/N)," your employer called, prompting you to toddle over to him in the kitchen. "How many times am I going to have to correct you before you can do things correctly?" he asked ominously, cocking his head a bit and erecting his arm to crank the bolt lodged in his temple.

"Apologies, sir," you mumbled. "What was it that I did wrong?"

"Taste this." he ordered, shoving a mug in your face. Hesitantly, you took in by its handle and took a sip, instantly grimacing at the taste.

"Tea?" you whispered under your breath, confused. Why was there tea in the coffee canister?

"Correct. And what did I ask for?" His confirmation startled you, as you hadn't anticipated him hearing you.

"Coffee, sir." you answered shamefully, setting the cup down to go make him a fresh cup. "Apologies."

"That won't be enough this time," you could here his teeth grind when he spoke, making your skin crawl as he grabbed you by the wrist to pull you back to him. "I'm going to teach you a lesson this time."

-----

"Watch those teeth or you'll lose them." he commanded down to you as you diligently sucked him off, making sure to take everything he said straight to heat, lest you screw up again. "That's better." He purred, holding your head still in an effort to fuck your throat more comfortably. Stein leaned against the refrigerator tiredly, his head tilted back against it, not only out of bliss, but exhaustion. He'd had a long day and he didn't have the energy to look after you to make sure you did things properly.

"If you were half as good at you job as you are at sucking dick, we might just get along." he remarked with a throaty chuckle. "But you're not, so I guess this is all your good for." You took in his displeased words as they went straight to your heat. You wanted so desperately to sink your fingers into your core while you pleasured him, letting his distain for you ag you on, but you knew better. Stein was a cold, uncaring man, and you knew for a fact that if Death himself hadn't appointed you to keep his lab clean, you'd be on the streets.

Suddenly, you felt a harsh slap deliver to your cheek, causing you to withdrawal from him, alarmed. "Teeth." he reminded.

"S-Sorry," you whined, brows knitted together shyly as you gazed up at him.

"God, you're pathetic." he moaned, releasing a shaky breath as you licked a stripe up his shaft. "Either you're such a little snowflake that you're going to cry over one little slap, or you're getting pleasure from this." he noted breathlessly, before pressing his palm to your forehead and pushing you to the floor. "Either way, that I'm not going to let that happen." He growled, approaching you, and manhandling you off the ground.

-----

You whined hopelessly as the man of the house held you as you were laid out on the kitchen table, fucking into your weeping whole like he hated you, and in many ways, he did. You vexed him constantly with your sickeningly sweet tone, your stupid mistakes, and the way you said things that drove him wild, entirely unintentionally. He gripped your thigh tighter, your leg half hazard slung over his shoulder, while the other dangled off the table.

"Dick dumb little whore," he grunted, sweat dripping off his brow and landing on your uniform. "Can't even make a simple cup of fucking coffee."

Your face felt numb, and you struggled to form a single coherent thought as he pounded you into the table, simply uttering choked attempts at his title. "Y-Yes, sir..."

"Fuck," he groaned as your walls clenched around him, squeezing for all he was worth. "Better not fucking cum, I swear to God, I'll hurt you so bad." His threats did nothing to stop your climax from washing over you. If anything, they made it stronger, the thought of all the ways he could harm you tasting delicious in your mind. Your pelvis rose off the table as your legs began to tremble, your gross noises spilling into the air, pissing him off even more. "God, you can't do anything fucking thing I tell you, can you?"

You neglected to answer him, simply laying limp against the cold surface, you eyes rolled back and drool dribbling down your chin from your ajar lips. "Don't think that just because you came I'm gonna stop," he warned, tossing your leg off him and gripping your hips as harshly as he could, fingernails digging crescent moons into your supple flesh.

"Gonna fuck you until you learn your Goddamn lesson."

#soul eater smut #professor stein #stein x reader #franken stein #stein smut #soul eater x reader

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ghostly-penumbra · 1 month

Text

Father and Sons

Ao3 FFN

Summary: Clockwork is Danny's loving, adoptive grandpa. Time is the Endless neglectful father. They are one and the same.

[Chapter One]

Chapter Two: Introduction

- - -

Danny glared at the pages of his book willing them to make sense through his mounting headache.

“C’mon, Fenton this isn’t rocket science!”

“Actually,” his book said, closing itself in his grasp and using its pages as a mouth, “I am.” It turned, showing Danny its cover with the title Rocket Science for Stressed College Ghosts by D. J. F.

“Oh, yeah, you are. Still, though,” he opened the book again, finding his childhood drawing of himself astride a rocket, “gotta keep my mind in the game.”

“Daniel Fenton.”

Danny looked up at the sound of his name and found a guy around his age who reminded him of himself in a weird, funhouse-mirror kinda way.

He was as pale as snow (no, really!) with wild white hair that defied gravity and green eyes as bright as the emerald gleaming on his chest, which was the only speck of colour in an otherwise solid white ensemble.

Before Danny could ask him if he needed anything, he realized something, “Oh, this is a Dream.” He stood up and found his sleeping body drooling all over his notebook, with several empty cups of coffee around him like a summoning circle. (One to which he wouldn’t mind being summoned to, if he was honest.)

“Would you walk with me, Daniel?” The guy asked.

With the ease of one who’s dreaming, Danny said, “I don’t really like leaving my body behind…”

“Your soul remains attached to it, it would just be your consciousness being away.”

Danny looked at his sleeping form for another half moment before nodding, “Yeah, okay.”

They left the library together, walking through the campus unperceived by those still up and about.

“I know you, right? You seem familiar.” Asked Danny at last.

“Yes, we have met before. Almost a hundred years ago for me, though I doubt it’s been so long for you. And it never actually happened, in the end.”

“You’re Clockwork’s son!” The halfa exclaimed as if it had made perfect sense. Since he was dreaming, it had. “Sorry, last time you… looked different.”

Dream of the Endless nodded, and his green eyes gave way to the visage of a starry night sky. “I was different.” He whispered, more to himself than Danny.

“I didn’t think I’d see ya again, if I’m being honest.” At the inquisitive sound Dream made, Danny elaborated, “I’ve met some of your siblings and, well, I know I’m not you guys’ favorite person, even if you don’t mess with me ‘n’ stuff…”

“Yes.” Dream nodded. “I imagine.”

After another moment of silence, the Endless spoke again.

“I came to you to ask for a favour.” Danny looked at him curiously, and Dream procured a bent, artsy-looking pocket watch from his white coat. “I’ve finally retrieved my father’s saeculum; it must be returned to him. I don’t wish to bother him again, so I believe it would be better to ask you to deliver it when next you visit him, if you are amenable.”

“Of course no problem.” Danny took the watch in his hands and turned it this way and that. “Huh, I think I’ve seen him working on this.” He said awkwardly to fill the silence.

Danny stared at Dream, his lips pursed and Dream stared back, impassive.

“I don’t mind helping you out with this, but… you could… go and visit him, that’d be cool. I think he would like that.” Danny finally said not meeting the other’s eye.

“My father has made it quite clear he doesn’t.” Dream said. “You were there, Daniel.”

“Yes! I- I know, but… if it’s a social visit, he’ll like it, I’m sure of that.” Dream looked at him hard, incredulous, and Danny sighed. “Look, I know Clockwork is not the best father he could be, and that’s on him not on you or your siblings, but… I care about him, yeah? And he’ll probably ground me for saying this, but he’s lonely! And I… just… think that if you came over just to say hi, he’d like that.”

They had stopped walking, and Danny still couldn’t look Dream in the eye, his gaze instead on his white shoes.

“I don’t need your help.” Dream said after a moment and Danny flinched, afraid he had overstepped and now Clockwork’s son would go to him himself and throw Danny’s words to his face and- “But I was curious;” the Endless continued over Danny’s internal panicking, making him halt and finally look up into starry eyes, “as I said, last time we met, I was different, other. Whatever my predecessor, the first Dream of the Endless thought of you is out of my reach, but looking at these memories… I’m curious as to what kind of person is the one my father favours so that he has adopted you as his grandson, doting on you as he doesn’t on his children.”

Danny felt himself being measured, his worth put on a scale against his grandpa’s seven children for their right to him.

He knew it wasn’t a competition because he had already won. That didn’t make him feel good.

“I see now that you love him, independently of whatever boon he granted you, but you don’t covet his attention, so he doesn’t deny it to you. You see him as other than his post so he presents himself to you that way.”

Danny didn’t know what to say, he probably didn’t understand everything that was being not said by his chosen grandpa’s son.

He couldn’t say ‘he’s not that bad, really’ without having to omit ‘to me’ and he didn’t want to lie so he just changed the topic. Or rather, he came back on topic.

“I’ll give him the sæculum next time I see him, and you won’t owe me anything, I’ll do it gladly,” he looked again at the surrealistic piece of art, wondering what was its purpose, before looking back at Dream, “but please, just think about it that’s all I ask.” He finished with a small, helpless shrug.

“I will consider it, but I can’t promise you anything.” Dream said, and Danny almost sighed in relief, but held it back. “But regardless of that…” The Endless began again, and Danny straightened, as he felt he was the one in the other’s debt, “my father has taken you in as his grandson and that makes us family.”

Danny blinked, startled, and waited for Dream to elaborate on that, but when he didn’t Danny assumed he must’ve missed some social cue and hurried to answer, “I mean, that’s- optional, y’know? With it being a symbolic adoption and all, not even legal though very real for us. You don’t have to. I wouldn’t want ya to feel some, obligation if you don’t want to be-”

“I want to.”

Danny stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the person-shaped concept facing him, speechless.

“I want to be your family, Danny. If you are amenable to it.”

“I- that’s- ah, I, I don’t- yeah! Yes.” Danny said, mind still lagging. “That, I’d like that.”

#Danny Phantom #The Sandman #Danny Fenton #Dream of the Endless #Daniel Hall #Clockwork #Father Time #ghostly-scrypts

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wastemanjohn · 9 months

Note

use a photo on your phone camera roll and write a quick scene/hc for it

well, this turned into a monster.

johndeanna, sam pov; 6k words, mature; cw discussions of character death, incest. unedited.

Sam has to keep himself busy, otherwise he’s gonna lose his mind.

Not that he isn’t already. Not that he’s even pushing any pretence of keeping it together, what with that last fight with Dad playing a constant live loop in his head, that code alarm ringing in his ears like tinnitus, phantom smells from the burning pyre lingering constantly under his nose. And that's to say nothing of Deanna, stone-faced and vacant, unreachable under the hood of the Impala. Yeah - that alone, Deanna's distance, her denial, is enough to make Sam feel certifiable.

So Sam keeps himself occupied, because there's really nothing else he can do right now. And besides - someone has to start the process of going through Dad's stuff.

Dad's truck's been sitting at the far end of the salvage yard for a couple of weeks, untouched and unspoken of since Bobby sent someone out to collect it from Nebraska. Tucked away where no one can see it; but Sam can’t forget that it’s there. Can feel its presence like Dad’s ghost, which is unsettling a thought as anything else.

Someone really, really needs to deal with this, alright.

The trees around the yard rustle in the wind, and Sam can feel the budding Autumn chill on the back of his neck. Bobby will probably scrap the truck once Sam's done with it, which is just fine with him. He and Deanna have no use for it, and the idea of selling it on, of someone else driving it, making it their own, feels kind of unbearable.

So Sam ignores that chill, and gets to work.

There's a lot of crap inside. A lot. Sam picks out all the fast food wrappers, a grimace fixed on his mouth; keeps stumbling across empty pill bottles with stolen names on the labels. He’d noticed them before, among Dad’s things, but he hadn’t wanted to give it too much thought - kinda hard not to now - and there are unwashed clothes balled up in the footwells that seem to have been festering for months.

Yeah, definitely hard, not to think about the way Dad was living. How old and exhausted he'd looked, how startling that was when Sam first laid eyes on him back in Chicago; how bad things seemed to have gotten, in the four years he’d been in California. Pretty rough, having those as his last, most live memories of Dad. Almost as rough as finding him motionless on the floor, listening to a strange, unreal voice calling time of death; nothing compared to how cold Dad’s skin felt when Sam and Deanna had laid down next to him for the last time, kissed him goodbye. Sam just can't stop remembering.

He clears out all the trash. Feels a little robotic about it, a little numb. He keeps going until the inside is dealt with; then, Sam moves to the trunk. He opens it up with a wrench, and a deep, deep breath.

Dad's duffel bag is inside. Sam stares at it for a moment or two; it's worn and stained, and there's a hole fraying around where the zip rests. It’s the same one Dad has had for years and years, all packed up and ready to return to, like Dad was just on another job or something. Like a part of him believed that would be the case; that for all the noises he made about being willing to die in the fight with the demon, Dad never truly meant it.

Sam blinks at the tears forming in his eyes. Takes another deep, deep breath. Holds it in his body as he takes the duffel out of the trunk, sets it down gently on the floor, He can't bear to go through it just yet. That's definitely a job for another day. Or maybe never.

Sam lifts up the floor of the trunk to reveal the hidden compartment underneath, just to check there's nothing else left behind. Nothing personal, at least; because for all the inside of Dad's truck was a mess, his assortment of weapons are clean, maintained and perfectly organized. Military precision, Sam thinks, with a smile that's only half-bitter. He'll need Bobby to help him get all this stuff out; it's stuff they're gonna need, after all. Something tells him it's a bad idea to ask Deanna.

His eyes idly roam glinting silver pistols, jagged blades; they could definitely use all of this. As Sam scans the little shelves tucked under the weapons tray, something else catches his attention. Something he’s never seen before; looks like a flat wooden box.

He frowns; it looks a little out of place. He reaches in to pull it out.

There's a layer of dust over the top. Sam blows on it until most of it has gone, then brushes the rest away with his hand. It feels quite light, almost like it's empty. There's nothing but a padlock holding it shut.

Sloppy, Dad, Sam thinks, with a little more scorn than he can forgive himself for. Really sloppy.

It doesn't take him long to locate a box of paperclips amongst Dad's shit. The only lock picking tool you'll ever need, he used to say, if you know how to use it right - and Sam's learned well. He gets the padlock off in less than a second. He opens the box.

Inside are three different white envelopes. Unsealed. Sam frowns again. He has no idea what these could be.

He closes the trunk, and sits down on top of it so he can take a closer look.

He pulls the first envelope out, prises it open with his thumbs. Inside is a stack of Polaroids, held together with a paperclip. Oh.

Sam holds them up. The picture on top is old, pretty faded. It's of a blonde woman in sunglasses and bright orange flared pants, perched on a low fence with fields rolling out behind her. She's looking off to the side. Between the sunglasses hiding her face and the degraded quality of the image, it takes Sam a moment to realize he's looking at a picture of his mother.

His eyes start to smart again. Alone, here, with this photo, with Dad's memories, he lets them.

Sam notices the text on the strip of white at the bottom; June 1975, in Dad's handwriting - everything labelled and organized, always. Sam smiles, despite everything. His mother was truly beautiful; Dad always said it, said it all the time.

Do you think I look like her, Sammy? Deanna used to ask, when they were younger. She’d ask it while standing in front of full length mirrors on wardrobe doors, lifting up her hair, turning side to side.

Sam, usually rattling with resentment and injustice at that time, rarely felt generous enough to agree; usually he'd just snort and go back to his book. He regrets that now, at the memory. He regrets a lot of things lately, a lot of the shitty ways he behaved.

Sam takes off the paperclip, and starts to look through the rest of the Polaroids. The first few are of Mom by herself. Mom sitting in a field in those flare pants, smiling with a single daisy in her hands; June 1975 again, maybe taken on the same day as the first one. Mom dancing at a bar with a woman Sam doesn’t recognize, September 1976. Mom with her head turned away from the camera, side profile grinning, holding up her middle finger; April 1977.

Sam finds himself a little surprised by that picture. The way Dad talked about Mom, it'd be kind of hard to imagine her ever flipping Dad the bird. Doesn’t really feel like the kind of thing wide-eyed, respectable housewives do. But then again, Sam has wondered on more than one occasion if he knows that much about his mother at all, really. Who she really was.

Mom is pregnant in the next picture. Dad is standing next to her, arm around her. Mom has her hands on her swollen stomach, and she's smiling. Dad - Dad is smiling even wider.

They're next to a crib. Sam recognizes the layout of Deanna's old bedroom from the other photos he's seen. There's a lot of pink. December 1978.

Sam feels that like a slap in the face. Sudden, stinging. A wave of grief for a woman, a life, he never knew. The smiling, carefree father he never really met.

Sam has never seen any of these photos before. He feels like he's looking through something intensely private. Something Dad wanted to keep close, keep just for himself. He draws another deep, deep breath; puts the paperclip back on the Polaroids, places them gently back in the envelope like they're made of glass. He's keen to see what's in the other ones.

The second envelope is unlabelled too. Inside is another set of Polaroids, clipped together; but there’s something else too. A beaded bracelet. Sam frowns, and pulls that out first.

He turns it over in his hand. It takes him a moment to realize he's holding the first gift he made for Dad in arts and crafts, back when he was in kindergarten. He remembers it so clearly because Deanna had laughed when he brought it home - men don't wear bracelets, Sammy - and when Sam had given it to Dad, he'd laughed too. But not with Deanna’s scorn.

Sam’s throat burns. It’s hard to believe, now, that there was a time when Dad still used to laugh, despite the fire, despite everything, but there was - and Dad had put that bracelet on, all gentle about it, like he was scared of breaking it. He'd ruffled Sam's hair and said, thank you, Sammy. I love it.

And Dad kept it. To this day, Dad held onto it. He never threw it out.

Sam has to stop for a second then; press the back of his hand to his mouth, like he's going to puke, because it feels kind of like that, even though nothing comes. In the safety of the quiet salvage yard, he lets out a rough sob. Dad - despite everything that happened between them, Dad still held onto a piece of crap Sam made for him when he was five. Carried it around with him in his truck, like a part of him. Wanted to keep the memory.

Sam doesn't know what to do with that. It feels so big. He rolls the bracelet onto his wrist before he can feel stupid about it, and reaches into the envelope for the Polaroids.

Like the ones of Mom, they're clipped together. January 1991 is written on the strip on the bottom of the first photo. Sam recognizes his own seven-year-old face, his gap-toothed smile, the Goodwill clothes sitting far too big on his little body. He's sitting on a swing. There are chunks of snow like clumps of cotton wool on the concrete below, a woolly hat on his tiny head.

A wet smile grows on Sam's face as he looks through the rest of the pictures. There's one of him in some kind of diner, August 1987, the background dark but for a neon sign, smiling wide with some kind of food all around his mouth. He winces - embarrassing - and moves on. There are a few photos dated around this time. One of him coloring at a motel room desk, tongue stuck out in focus. Another of him holding a book upside down and grinning.

Then - September 1983. His infant face blinks up at him. He’s all fat little limbs and confusion. Deanna’s in this picture too, crouched on the floor next to Sam’s carrier with a big toothy grin on her face. Her hair is in pigtails, and she's wearing a blue cotton dress. This picture would mortify her, Sam thinks, with a soft laugh. He doesn't have a single live memory of his sister wearing a dress.

Deanna's in a few more of the photos, Sam notices, as he rifles through. One in particular catches his eye. They’re at a fairground, by the looks of it; there’s a ferris wheel and a cotton candy stall in the background. May 1994 - and already, Sam’s taller than Deanna in this photo, but she's got an arm around his shoulder anyway, asserting her eldest sibling status. They're both squinting in the sun, smiling wide; and Sam finds himself looking at that photo for a while, because something is out of place. He notes with a frown that Deanna is wearing lipstick. Red lipstick.

Dad never let Deanna wear make up of any kind. He can’t have taken this picture; must have lost his shit when he saw it for the first time, too. He didn’t even like her wearing tinted lip balm. Deanna still doesn’t wear make up to this day.

Sam keeps looking at the photo; he remembers now. It was his eleventh birthday; Bobby had been the one orchestrating the fairground trip. And Sam remembers, also, that Dad didn't call that day. Dad was never home for his birthday by that point; but it was the first year of many that he’d forgotten to even call.

God, Sam had been so angry about that once, the way he'd been angry about most everything that Dad did. His distance, his absence. His presence, too; Sam couldn't tolerate that either, for how suffocating it was.

Sam feels very far removed from that now. All that resentment, that rage. He feels like he could forgive Dad all of it, immediately. Forget it, too; if he could just see Dad one last time.

Sam gets to the final photograph. February 2001. Seventeen; he’s sprawled across a motel bed, all gangly, awkward limbs, hair so long it’s almost brushing his chest. He’s staring down at an open book. Well. Sam doesn't remember that photo being taken at all.

He sure remembers 2001, though. That was when things went from pretty bad to unbearable.

That’s when they started having to quietly flee motels hours before check out to avoid covering the damage for broken appliances, holes and dents punched, kicked into walls. When Dad really started screaming at him, and Sam started screaming right back, Deanna pacing up and down with her hands over her ears until they wore themselves out. And then - Deanna lecturing Sam as she patched up his busted knuckles. Deanna, always, always siding with Dad.

It was Dad she’d go after whenever he stormed out; Dad whose point of view she always supported. Always. No matter what.

February 2001; Sam stares at that picture for a while, lost in it. He can smell greasy rental kitchens, Dad’s dirty ashtrays, the vanilla body spray Deanna wore constantly at the time. The memories hit him all at once, bringing their residual anger with them. Because for all he and Dad fought, he and Deanna fought too, by then. They fought about Dad. About how Deanna never had Sam's back.

You could be going to school, Sam remembers saying to her. Well, yelling, really. You could be making something of yourself. But instead you're here. Following his orders. Cleaning up his messes. When are you gonna wake up, Dee?

Deanna's arms were folded, in a display of that Disappointed Mother Mode she'd adopted recently, but Sam could see that he was getting to her from the quiver in her shoulders. Dad needs me, she said, short, curt. And I am something. I'm a hunter.

Sam had laughed. It was cruel - god, he was so cruel back then - And you know what? You could be literally anything else you wanted to be. But you won't do a damn thing unless he tells you to do it.

That quiver flashed through Deanna’s eyes. She took a step towards him, folded hands in fists. You're talking about shit you don't understand, she'd said, tightly, the way she often did. Dad wants justice for Mom. So do I. And the quicker you get off that sky high horse of yours and start doing as he says, maybe we'll actually get somewhere.

You're brainwashed, Sam had told her. It's pathetic.

His fit of frustration blinded him to the not-small flash of hurt in her eyes; but still, Sam walked out after that, because even he knew he wasn't allowed to press the Mom issue. Mom was an automatic out, an automatic shutdown of any meaningful conversation that Sam would try to have. Because that was always shit he didn't understand; not worth getting into, unless he wanted Deanna to end up punching him, anyway. He knew from experience that Deanna had a better set of fists on her than most hunters twice her age and size. He was smarter than to fuck with that.

And, Mom; something that connected Dad and Deanna in a way that Sam could never touch. He doesn't remember what Mom's cookies smelled like, how her laugh sounded, how her hugs felt. Wasn't sentient enough yet on the night of the fire to be particularly bothered about witnessing a house, a life, burn to the ground. Sam remembers always feeling like an outsider in something he was apparently a huge part of. It just made him angrier.

February 2001; yeah. Not a whole stretch of time back from August 2001. No photos from around that time - and, around that time, the night Sam left forever. Not that Sam needs photos; he'll be able to hear Dad's roar of you walk out that door, you never fucking come back, clear as a bell, for the rest of his life. He's never wished he could erase it more.

He doesn't realize he's still crying until a tear lands on the Polaroid in his hand.

Dad had cried that night as well, that night Sam walked out. Then again, Dad cried a lot as time went on, all the time, really; rarely in front of Sam, but Sam would hear him anyway. It would usually happen when Sam was meant to be sleeping - not that he really could, over the sound of those breathless, drunken sobs. Over Deanna's soothing murmurs of it's gonna be okay, Daddy, because whenever Dad got home at stupid o'clock in the morning, stinking like sweat and whisky, she’d always rush out of bed. Straight to his side like a nursemaid never off the clock. Pathetic, Sam would think, every time, even if he did only say it the once. Just felt, all too often, like Deanna couldn’t stop proving his point.

Those old memories usher in another; something Sam hasn't thought about in a very, very long time, as he gently clips the Polaroids back together like he hadn't disturbed them, slots them back into the envelope. Probably 2001 as well; some nondescript night where Sam had woken up to the sound of a decaying front door rattling on its hinges; followed up by a loud, hissed curse. Deanna, as always, sitting up dutifully in their shared bed, without so much as a sigh of complaint.

Sam listened to Deanna in the dark, going down rickety stairs, her footsteps sounding dainty in this out of place way. Heard her going to the kitchen, the hiss of the faucet as she got Dad a glass of water and three ibuprofen. The sound of her bare feet on the wood floors as she went back to him, got Dad cozy on the couch. Started the process of calming him down.

Sam wasn't sure what compelled him to get up that night too. To take himself to the top of the stairs like a kid eavesdropping on fighting parents. But from his vantage point, if he craned his neck just right, he could see into the mildewy living room. He could see Deanna kneeling before Dad on the couch, undoing his shoelaces with one hand. The other was holding Dad's. Fingers interlaced. Dad’s grip looked tight, his fingers tiny in hers; but she didn't seem bothered.

Dad was looking at Deanna. Staring at her, really, with his mouth quivering, tears spilling indulgently down his cheeks. There was blood on his shirt, Sam noticed; there often was. Dad had been getting into a lot of fights.

Sam watched Dad cup Deanna’s face, Her hand stilled on his laces; she let Dad tilt up her head. My beautiful little girl, Sam had heard him murmur. What would I do without you, huh?

Those quivery lips moved into something that resembled a smile, and Sam didn't need to see Deanna's face to know that hers were doing the same. For a moment, nothing happened; Dad didn't seem to blink. And maybe Sam left before he could see Dad kiss Deanna on the mouth, or maybe he completely imagined it; it's still not entirely clear in his mind. Still doesn't quite make sense, that that's what he saw; or what he thought he saw, anyway. Or even why his mind would even concoct something like that. He was half-asleep, he guesses.

And besides, he told himself afterwards, Dad was pretty damn wasted. It's not beyond the realm of possibility to think that he'd been in enough of a state to mistake Deanna for Mom. Deanna would have known that, Sam is sure; and Sam is sure, certain, that Deanna would have taken it in stride. She would have reassured Dad quietly, and gently pushed him away. Confident that he wouldn’t even remember in the morning.

Do I look like Mom, Sammy?

Sam breathes in the burnt Autumn air; it's getting a little dark. Bobby will be calling him for dinner soon. Dinner is usually prepackaged chilli, canned Ravioli, shit like that; Sam's stomach is beginning to churn for even the thought of it. He’s not seen a vegetable in weeks.

Anyway - Sam shoves that old memory (dream? imagination?) back into some dark eave of of his mind where it belongs. He touches the bracelet on his wrist - thanks, Sammy, I love it - and thinks about the way Dad had ruffled for his hair, the way he smiled in that photo in Deanna's nursery, the Dad he could have been, kind of sort of was for a while, when Sam was very small, until years and years of the life slowly took him apart. The Dad Sam always knew was still in there; the Dad that was good.

Yeah - Sam takes that version of Dad with him, as he moves onto the final envelope. Wonders if, maybe, he'll find that version of Dad inside. More pictures of him looking young. Happy. Not the broken, exhausted old man Sam can’t help but keep on seeing every time he closes his eyes.

This envelope is a little heavier than the others. Sam presses it open with his thumbs. Makes sense, if it's the heaviest; this must be Deanna's envelope. Dad was closer with Deanna than he was with anybody, and he knew her a hell of a lot longer than he knew Mom.

Sam pushes around inside. He was correct; there are more Polaroids here than in the other envelopes. Lots more. But unlike the others, they're not clipped together. They’re just laying haphazardly inside. There's also another envelope stuffed in this one. Folded up small to fit.

Sam sees the glint of a silver chain peeking out from the bottom. The necklace is a little tangled up when he pulls it out; it has a little pendant shaped like a rose, with some kind of fake red gem in the middle.

Sam remembers this necklace, he realizes, as he studies it. Deanna had picked it up at some dollar store or other; thought it looked cool. And she'd been pissed as hell when she lost it. She'd looked for it everywhere. Made Sam look everywhere too. That had sure been a long night.

Sam gets this feeling he can't describe, as it crosses his mind that the necklace may have been in Dad's possession this whole time. But why - why would he do that? Had he picked it up by accident? Decided to hold onto it, forgot to mention it? Was he entirely unaware that it was even lost in the first place?

Or - well. Sam has no fitting explanation for the or.

He pockets the necklace, not really thinking too much for now about whether it'll be a good idea to return it to Deanna or not. That weird feeling spreads through his gut.

It gets worse still when Sam's reaches into the envelope again; when his fingers brush something else. The small lock of hair is held together by a rubber band. Hair. Blonde hair.

It could, Sam thinks, as that feeling climbs his spine, be Mom's - some couples keep each other’s hair, right? That's a thing, right? - but Sam somehow knows that it isn’t. That this lock of hair belongs - or belonged - to Deanna.

He drops it straight back into the envelope.

There's a part of Sam that wants to put the damn thing away now. Put everything he’s seen so far up to more shit you don't understand, to another thing he couldn't possibly have really seen. Because this - none of this - there’s no explanation Sam can live with that makes sense. And with that in mind - he should stop digging around in Dad’s shit right now.

But there's a bigger part of Sam that feels differently. And that part takes over before he can think too much about what he's doing.

Sam's fingers are shaking a little as he takes out the Polaroids. He pushes them together like a deck of cards, and starts to look through.

He half-expects to see pictures of Deanna as a kid, like with his envelope; pictures of her on swings, at diners, with her arms around Sam. But there aren't any; most of them seem to be of her as an adult, or at least as an older teenager. Sam can't pinpoint it exactly, because the photos aren't dated like the others - and unlike the others, in most of them, Deanna isn't smiling or posing. There's one of her working on the Impala at the side of a dirt road, bent over the hood in those tiny denim shorts she only dons in 100 degree weather, the look of focus on her face suggesting she didn't know the photo was being taken. There's one of her at night in a parking lot of some kind, a hand in her shirt pocket, her irises red in the flash, a confused look on her face. Another of her from the back; standing up a bar, her hair glowing under the low lights, flanked by two men on stools. They’re both looking at her, Sam notices. Then again, Deanna can't go anywhere without men looking at her.

It brings another memory back to Sam, as he stares dumbly at that photo. They'd just finished up a job, a black dog maybe, somewhere in Arizona; and Dad had taken them out to a bar kinda like the one in the picture, dank and yeasty, the kind of bars they only ever went to, really. Sam was bored and miserable, twirling the straw around in the diet coke he’d been nursing since they got there, while Dad and Deanna proceeded to get wicked, wicked drunk.

They told Sam - but mostly each other - the story of how they wasted the thing, because Sam, as usual, wasn’t allowed to join for the actual hunt part. The details kept getting more and more elaborate, Deanna’s voice rising with excitement; that manic hint to her laugh growing, the more wasted she got. And Dad's smile was warming up and up, his eyes lingering on her for longer and longer periods, shining with the pride he rarely offered verbally. A part of Sam hoped Deanna saw that, at least.

When Deanna went up to the bar to get in the fifth or sixth round - Sam would lose count as quickly as they would - Dad's eyes followed her. His apparent good mood saw an interruption, as he shook his head.

See that bartender? he’d said, without looking at Sam. Gives me the creeps, the way these horndogs look at your sister. Who the fuck does that guy think he is.

Dad often complained about the way men acted around Deanna. Sam just shrugged. I’m sure she can handle herself, Dad.

Not the point, Dad muttered. Locking eyes with him, finally. Hey Sammy, listen. When I'm not around, you need to start lookin' out for your sister. If you see what I mean.

Sam didn't see what he meant. Dad had this way of speaking in riddles, or at least they were riddles to Sam. He shrugged again, didn't say anything. Giving Dad a cue to fucking elaborate.

Dad huffed. Problem is, Dee's a looker. A real looker, just like her mother.

Sam stayed quiet. Wasn’t sure what he was meant to say to that.

Dad narrowed his eyes. You ever see anyone gettin' too close to her, you come and tell me right away, alright?

Sam nodded. Felt easier. Wasn’t too sure what else to do.

And Dad had pressed his beer to his lips and kept on watching Deanna up at the bar. Didn't seem to blink as he gulped his drink down, placed the bottle back on the table. And Sam watched Dad watching Deanna, saw the line of his gaze moving up and down her body, from her big boots all the way up to the neckline of her crop top; and Sam thought to himself, at that, that the way Dad looked at Deanna wasn’t all that different than any other guy did. The horndogs. It wasn't a welcome thought; but it sure as hell crossed Sam's mind anyway.

And Sam dismissed it just as quickly as it had come. It wasn't a thought he could keep around, not beyond that mere split second. Not when he had to be wrong.

Sam stares into the envelope. He decides, with his pulse in his ears, that he doesn't want to see any more of these weird Polaroids. Any more erratic angles; any more of Deanna apparently not even knowing she’s having her picture taken.

He puts them back in the envelope. And now, it’s really about time that Sam left it there; about time he accepted, willingly, that whatever Dad and Deanna had going on, he is, was and always will be, outside of it. That it's not at all - nowhere in the ball park of - what it looks like.

What it sometimes kind of felt like. What it kind of feels like now.

Sure, Dad was never winning any parenting awards; on a good day, or maybe a bad one depending on how you looked at it, he'd admit it himself. But - this...

Yeah, Sam could really leave it there. Put the envelope back in the box, salvage the nice photos, and burn everything else. But there’s still that other envelope. The smaller one.

His fingers close around it. He watches his hand take it out. Watches, watches himself.

Sam can see why it’s folded now. It’s perfectly Polaroid shaped.

On the front, Dad’s handwriting: Summer 2002. The year after Sam left, he registers, somewhere in the back of his mind.

He starts unfolding. Watching, watching himself.

The first Polaroid is on another dirt road. Deanna’s sitting on the hood of the Impala, sunglasses balanced on her head. The wind is blowing her hair around. She’s holding a bottle of Jack in one hand, and there’s a cigarette dangling between her fingers on the other. Sam has never seen Deanna smoke.

The next photo, she’s still on the hood. She’s got a leg cocked up beneath her, a hand tangled up in her hair. Bottle of Jack posed between her legs. She’s pouting. She looks kind of ridiculous; and something in her expression belies that she knows it.

In the next photo, Deanna’s sitting upright on the hood again, laughing hysterically. It’s funny, how Sam can hear Dad laughing too, laughing from behind that damn camera. Laughing like he never did, not since all those years ago. Laughing at his daughter - sitting, posing like that.

Sam keeps going. Keeps looking.

Deanna and Dad are both in the next photo. Sam can see the length of Deanna’s arm; she’s angling the camera down at their faces. Dad’s got his eyes closed tight, his lips pressed against her cheek. There’s the biggest grin on Deanna’s flushed face.

Sam’s gut feels weightier, weightier.

In the next picture, Dad’s mouth is on Deanna’s neck.

Deanna’s grin is gone; her mouth’s drooping open a little. Sam can see the whites of her closed eyes.

Weightier. Weightier.

He keeps looking.

The next Polaroid seems to have been taken in a motel room. Kinda nicer than their usual fare; Sam can tell that by the velvet headboard topping the bed, the matching gray curtains behind Deanna where she stands. She’s holding a rifle, a big one; it’s covering half of her face.

It’s not covering it enough for Sam to miss the way her eyes smoulder at the camera this time, in this way that looks practised, intentional. She’s not joking this time. Not laughing at herself anymore.

She’s wearing a t-shirt that just skims the midst of her hips. Sam can see the strip of pale pink panties underneath. Did Dad - like her that way? Did he enjoy seeing Deanna handling weapons - and not just because he was impressed with her prowess?

God. God.

The next Polaroid is even worse.

Deanna’s kneeling on the bed, in front of that headboard, her thighs parted. And oh, Sam can see her panties again alright; he can see her stomach too, her bare waist. The outline of her tits, suggestive; covered by Deanna's hands. Deanna's hands, on Dad's leather jacket, the only other piece of clothing she has on.

No, not the only other piece; Sam can just about see the black lace around the tops of her thighs. Stockings.

Her hair is in a cascade down her shoulders. She’s half-smiling, half biting her lip.

No.

Next photograph; and Dad’s jacket hangs loosely on Deanna’s body now. Her tits are bare.

She’s in the same pose; only now, with her head tilted a little back. Her eyes closed again, like in the last picture. Mouth slack; and there’s a hand on her face. A hand with scar tissue, house fire burns; a wedding band glinting on the ring finger. A hand Sam would know anywhere.

The photograph blurs before his eyes. His tears are different now; born of an emotion he can’t identify. Nothing like his earlier grief.

Sam shoves the photos back into the envelope. The envelope back into the box; slams it closed. His hands curl into fists. He can’t catch his breath.

He shuts his eyes. Acid lurches up from his stomach, hits out at the back of his throat. His limbs feel weak. It takes every last ounce of control inside him not to slump off the hood, fall to his knees, and violently puke.

Sam doesn’t know how long he sits there, on that hood. All he knows is that despite the falling dusk, the cold winding through the fibres of his clothes, the teeth he can vaguely feel starting to chatter, he can’t move.

Because the thing is - he didn’t want to know. Sam never, ever, wanted to know.

You can explain things away; but you can never, ever forget them.

He should’ve expected that Bobby would come out looking for him eventually.

Bobby approaches John’s truck slowly, the way he always seems to kind of tiptoe around Sam these days. “You been out here for hours, kid."

Sam eyes the floor. All he can think to say is, “Where’s Deanna?”

Bobby leaves a pause. Then, “She’s sleepin’. Figured we should let her get her rest. She ain’t been doin’ much of that.”

It’s true. She hasn’t. Nor has Sam. None of them have.

“Gettin’ a little worried about her,” Bobby admits, after another of those pauses. “She’s takin’ this hard. She was crazy about her Daddy.”

Sam doesn’t say anything. Bobby must notice; he must, because the silence just feels awkward now. And Sam doesn’t mean to be cold; he really doesn’t. He’s just numb.

“You got everything you need from John’s truck?” Bobby asks, eventually.

Sam nods. He can’t speak.

“All good for me to junk it?"

Another nod. Yes. Crush it to pieces with every last little fucking piece of him inside.

Sam already put John’s duffel back in the trunk. His box, its photos, its necklace, its hair, along with it.

Bobby nods too. “Alright. Now get your ass inside before you freeze to death.”

Sam could. It’s very, very cold out here.

He lets Bobby walk up the path in front of him. Lagging behind, Sam slides a finger under the elastic of the bracelet on his wrist. He tugs on it until it snaps; hearing the beads scatter their pieces across the floor isn’t much, but it’s something.

#asks #anon #johndeanna #my writing #prompt #i got carried away and this ended up not being quick lmao #tw implied addiction #tw incest #tw implied mental illness #always female dean

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littldog · 1 year

Text

// weed, // kinda meanie xiao :( he calls u a good girl ^_^ // fem reader // he burns u wit his joint lol

this is my first work!! im rly bad as i never done it before but i wanted to get this out:3 ill make a part 2 if any of u want it!! || dni minors ||

stoner xiao who wants his darling to smoke with him, no matter how hard they beg him to stop, he wont budge!! he wants his darling to feel good like him!! he’ even got you à pretty piece for u to smoke out of!! like a hello kitty pipe or bong, and pink rolling papers!!^_^

when ur sitting on his lap while hes rolling a joint at his desk, energy drink cans all over his desk makes u whine at the mess, you always tell him how much you hate the mess!! but he doesnt care. if its a problem, u should clean it then. turning around to put ur hands over ur chest, puffing ur cheeks, he notices ur sudden attitude and sighs,

“what’s with you?” he speaks, eyes not moving from the joint in his hands as he finishes rolling it, taking the joint into his hands, he looks into ur eyes with a smirk. “lick here.” voice stern, not wanting to have to repeat himself.

you dont move, no word escapes your lips as you look at him with confused eyes, tilting your head to the side. “what?” you ask, a hinge of bitchiness in ur words makes him scoff and roll his eyes.

“are you dumb? i said lick.” he moves the joint closer to ur lips. when you dont stick ur tongue out, he rolls his eyes, using his free hand to use two fingers to put into ur mouth, tugging on ur tongue. you whine when u feel the cool contact of the pads of his fingers touch ur warm muscle, instinctively, you start licking at his fingers instead of the paper.

“the paper, not my fingers, dumb bitch. have i not fucked enough sense into you?” he spoke bluntly, removing the fingers from your mouth, he uses that hand to smack your cheek, squishing your cheeks together cooing at you when he hears your whines. “you’re so so so cute baby.” he hums, rubbing your red cheek ‘n smiling softly, a sigh coming past his lips. “do you understand what i mean? i said lick the paper, please.” he spoke softly, still, with a stern tone.

you whined softly ‘n nodded, giving little kitten licks to the paper infront of ur face, trying to avoid eye contact with him as you licked, too embarrassed to stare at him while ur tongue is lapping at the paper that keeps the joint together.

“wasn’t that hard, was it? good girl.” xiao caressed ur thigh with his free hand, running circles along ur soft skin which made u whine, ur hips stuttering on his lap.

you hum at the pet name, feeling goosebumps rise on ur skin as he touched ur thighs, lookin down to see him playing with the thigh highs you love to wear for him, they were pink with white lace at the top, the fabric tight on ur skin to make ur thighs slightly pool over the thin fabric. xiao loved it. xiao is 100% a thigh guy idc he loves thighs especially fat ones

a minute or two passes that he’s been playing with your thighs, earning small whines n whimpers from you as he snapped the fabric back so it hits ur skin, the skin slowly turning red from how tight the fabric is against ur plush flesh. xiao hums, picking up the joint from his desk as he seemed to forgot about it, your body distracted him so much from what he was meant to do :( you’re so mean to him!!

xiao holds the joint between his lips, fetching the lighter from the drawer in his desk, he lights the joint, taking a drag as ur still seated on his lap. he laughed slightly as the smoke hit ur face, making you whine and hit his chest with ur fists. “stop! i already told you i dont like it..” xiao scoffs at ur protests, mocking ur whines. he takes the joint between his lips again, taking a long hit and blowing it into ur face again, watching the way ur eyebrows furrow, ur lips form into a pout and trying to escape his grasp he had on ur hips.

“stop moving. i bought you cute shit too and u dont even use it, you just bitch ‘n whine.” xiao tsked, placing the joint down into the ashtray, his hand that was once holding the joint, now on ur hip. “why not, too much of a baby to handle it?”

you shake ur head repeatedly at his remark, bouncing on his lap slowly as you keep whining. “ ‘m not! jus don’t like… the smell..” you spoke softly, looking into his eyes, they were starting to droop and turn red, the weed hitting him pretty quickly. you have to admit, he did look very pretty in this state, the way his eyes were lidded, ‘n the way his voice was softer, raspy, making you fall more in love with him. sure, you didnt really like how he always smoked, maybe he was right. you could try it!! he did buy u pretty pieces too…

but you’re not a baby!! u wanna prove him wrong n show him u can be jus like him!! it took u a minute to really think about if you should do it or not, like there was a devil and an angel on ur shoulder. you sigh and take the joint from the tray, hands shaking slightly as u hold it to ur lips, taking a small hit, you breath the smoke into ur lungs, coughing as it escapes your lips, earning a small chuckle from xiao as he watches your reaction to the smoke.

xiao looked at you with wide eyes, seeing as you took the joint from the ash tray and in between ur lips. he tsked as he took the joint from ur hands, seeing as there was now lip gloss stained on it.

“wasn’t that bad was it huh? how do you feel baby.” xiao looked at ur dazed expression, chucking softly as ur face turned red from all the coughing you’ve done, handing you a bottle of water from his desk. “here, i didn’t even tell you to do it, guess all that talk has gotten into ur skull finally, huh?” you nod while drinking the water, an “aah” sound coming from ur lips as u downed the water, resting ur head onto his chest, feeling his heartbeat against ur ears, lulling you into a state of calm.

xiao used one hand to rub ur back, adjusting himself in his gamer chair so you two could sit comfortably, the other hand holds the joint back to his lips, taking a long drag. drag after drag, he taps ur thigh, tryin to get ur attention. “you want another? almost done. prolly can get one or two more puffs out this.” he asks, you shake your head n whine, lifting ur head to look him in the eyes, bloodshot eyes meeting his, making him chuckle at ur expression. “oh baby, you’re gone huh. and you only had one hit. such a baby..” xiao coos, pinching ur cheek with his fingers. he took the last two hits from the joint, throwing his head back as the thc was flowing thru his bloodstream, tilting his head to the side. you take note of his neck on full display, n take advantage of it. you smirk slightly n lift ur head up, latching your lips onto his jaw, suckling on the soft skin, earning a groan from the man under you. “fuck… stop doin” that.” xiao mumbles, ashing the joint onto ur thigh, which made u flinch n lift ur head up to meet his eyes.

“w-what the fuck, xiao?!” you whimpered loudly, rubbing ur hand into ur thigh, trying to ease the burning pain on ur leg.

it only made his smirk grow wider to see your reaction, you used to beg him to mark you, hit you, hurt you. but now you’re complaining? what’s gotten into you lately? does xiao need to fuck more sense into you, that you belong to him? only he can do these things to you?

part 2? ^_^

#xiao #xiao x reader #stoner xiao #genshin impact #genshin #incel xiao #🦴 works

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effieandtim · 4 months

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i don't think hawk jumped at going back home with lucy bc he doesn't love tim enough, i think it's clear that it's in part fear, that he would finally have to confront the reality of his marriage, and his sexuality to an extent, and that his marriage of 30 years is falling apart, even if they didn't love each other like that (or at least hawk didn't love lucy romantically) they still got along well enough and went through a lot together, and he's trying hard to keep his grasp on that life and stop it from changing. and probably with tim dying, he wants subconsciously to hold on to his ~other life as much as he can, to not lose that as well. i think that they decided not to have him say i love you to tim indicates that hawk was still repressing that part of himself in the 80s, even after tim died, until the quilt scene. he was clearly not ready at all to part with that life and embrace the other side of himself.

apologies i wasnt able to answer this earlier

yeah i agree - i think hawk was going through a lot of stuff, he was losing the man he loved and there was clear guilt about everything that happened plus fear of not only losing tim, but also the cracks that were forming in his previous life

one scene that makes it so clear is that shot of marcus saying in ep 8, ‘still bulletproof’ - hawk’s expression was almost said ‘not really’

so yeah there was definitely fear bc he could see and probably knew his life was changing and one thing that we’ve seen throughout the series is that hawk isnt the best at change. i think it scares him bc it’s something he cant control and its unpredictable. and a man like him who has so much to hide, unpredictability in his life is something he probably tries to avoid at all times

i do think that the reason why he didnt say i love you to tim at the gala is bc he wasnt ready - he had just kissed a man in public for the first time, and not just any man - it was the man he loved. but embracing that part of yourself isn’t something that happens at the click of your fingers - it takes time and unfortunately in hawk and tim’s case, it was too late

i think it still ate at him later on - the fact that he didnt tell tim he loved him - the feeling that tim didnt know hawk loved him must have plagued him to no end. but he must have felt all of this not necessarily immediately after leaving the gala, but probably at a time when he was ready to acknowledge the truth himself

and I think thats the real tragedy of hawk, that he has to continue living a truthful life in whatever capacity (and not necessarily as boldly as tim/frankie/marcus do and thats okay) but without tim beside him - kinda similar to how tim did without hawk

#anons #fellow travelers #tim laughlin #hawkins fuller #jonathan bailey #matt bomer

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nightmare13 · 1 year

Text

Yang Jungwon

Back to: enha navigation

One shots

Lost cause

Synopsis: since your brief friendship with your crush, yang jungwon, ended in radio silence, you’ve been determined to keep him at arm’s length. jungwon, convinced that you’ve grown to hate him during your months of disconnection, is equally as determined to win you back.

Genre: high school au, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn warnings. cursing, one mention of piss

Word count: 8.5k

Stars on your ceiling

Synopsis: you’ve heard countless stories of how your parents met, and of the vivid dreams that brought the two of them together. still, once you begin to have soulmate dreams of your own, it’s hard to enjoy getting to know your supposed other half when your best friend occupies your thoughts instead (and when your soulmate doesn’t remember these shared dreams ever happening).

Genre: soulmate au but not really, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff + angst

Word count: 21.7k

$3 Coffee

Synopsis: Yang Jungwon works evening shifts in a late-night convenience store. You attend evening college classes. How did you end up being so awkward that you made the store workers feel as if they were bothering you, and then end up walking out with a $3 coffee you didn’t even want?

Genre: Fluff, Short story, Strangers to crushes.

Word count: ~3k

Series

Ongoing

X - part one;

Synopsis: what do you get when you have a stupid asshole of a bestfriend (who’s completely head over heels for you, should he add) and a fucked up ego that refuses to admit any form of defeat? you guessed it: the summoning of a jealous ex-boyfriend who dumped you two years ago, and is hell-bent on winning you back.

Genre: angst, fluff, slow burn, exes au, college au

Word count: 28.5k+

Social Media AUs

Completed

Diamond league

Synopsis: in which lee heeseung creates a minecraft server for his friends and all sorts of chaos ensues, including the budding romance between you and yang jungwon

Genre: social media au (smau), crack, fluff, slice of life, horror/mystery (for pt. 2), gamer au, youtuber/twitch streamer au, (one-sided) enemies to lovers

All clear!

Synopsis: for as long as you’ve been on jyp university’s badminton team, your team’s main rivals have been hybe university. the rivalry goes way back, and as the team captain, you’re well aware of your team’s disdain towards the hybe team - but it just so happens that you’re secretly dating hybe’s team captain, yang jungwon. and since tournament season is coming up soon, the rivalry between hybe and jyp is stronger than ever, and you and jungwon both know that if the secret got out, conflicts would arise. you’ve heard of enemies pretending to be lovers, but have you heard of lovers pretending to be enemies?

Genre: smau, fluff, crack, angst but only a teeny bit i Think, secret relationship

A project and a guitar

Synopsis: jungwon is just a boy who plays guitar for fun and that can't stop himself from looking at you in class, he never thought of talking to you even if he had the biggest crush in the whole world, but what happens when a project forces him to make a move on you?

Genre: smau + written chapters, highschool!au, fluff, slight angst, strangers to lovers, kinda slow burn, love triangle (?) but not really.

The language of flowers

Synopsis: jungwon’s just every bit in love with the student council president who keeps visiting his flowershop OR in which you find solace in a flowershop, and its owner’s grandson finds solace in you.

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff

Unexpected partners

Synopsis: Jeon YN has had a crush on Yang Jungwon since Freshman year. To Jungwon, she is the perfect VP. That is until YN announces that she isn’t going to be running for StuCo in senior year.

Genre: SMAU. Friends to Lovers. Highschool au. Angst. Fluff. Comedy.

Admiring you!

Synopsis: You’ve never had good luck with dating. You just couldn’t seem to make it work. You were led to believe that was how things would always be. You had no idea but, Jungwon, one of your classmates has been crushing on you for a long time. But because you are you, you never paid attention to him in class. After seeing him staring at you for a time, you finally identify him as a barista at the aroma café. Will anything ever change for you? Will you be able to establish a committed relationship at last?

Genre: high school au, smau, fluff, lots of crack, strangers (?) to lovers, classmates to lovers

Silent treatment!

Synopsis: yn and jungwon, the middle school best friends everyone thought would get into a relationship when they entered highschool. well, they were definitely wrong. after entering highschool, jungwon finds new friends and slowly starts to ignore yn. as much time went on, they became strangers once again, until yn decided to leave. jungwon never noticed that she left, that was until he went for family dinner at yn’s parents house. regret, pain, guilt, is all the boy could feel when her parents mentioned that one of her best friends decided to ignore her, like they were strangers again. as the years of highschool goes past, jungwon becomes closed off, only talking to his friends, wishing he still had her. but what if yn returns for the last year of highschool? will jungwon make an effort to become friends again? or will she be the one ignoring him this time?

Genre: ex friends to lovers, reader ignores jungwon in first bunch of chapters, reader is closed off, fluff, angst, reader is stubborn asf

Ongoing

Project: stay single

Synopsis: when being the youngest and only girl of the park household, strict parents and overprotective brother and cousins are a given. therefore, park y/n sworn off dating until she enters college (not that she had much of a choice). but when the awkward but terribly cute yang jungwon is placed in her lab group, she finds herself wanting to break the number one rule in her family—no dating till college. or maybe they could be just friends, right?

Genre: smau, high school au, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining (?), instant attraction, forbidden love but not really, fluff, (attempted) crack, slow burn cause they’re two socially awkward kids

Falling4u

Synopsis: Lee Hyerim is a firm believer that the male dominated world of pro-gaming should not be limited to strictly males. What happens when XXGZ’s manager hears of Hyerims extreme gaming skills and scouts her to join their team, thus being the first female pro-gamer? Once XXGZ’s members hear about Hyerim joining their team they were appalled, there’s no way they’re going to replace their former member Lee Heeseung, with a girl- no matter how good she is. Not to mention that once XXGZ’s leader Yang Jungwon meets hyerim he starts falling for her- which is prohibited and one of 5 of their only rules.

Genre: e-sports romance, tsundere jungwon, ???slow burn???, mutual pining, simp jungwon

Mystery Player

Synopsis: life is unfair, that’s what yn tells herself everytime her extremely bad wifi throws her out of the server in the middle of a game. but when she gets disconnected, once again, while playing with the best game-buddy she has ever had, yn is ready to flip the universe off. enraged about the loss of her unknown game-buddy, yn throws her frustration out on twitter in a long thread, recalling every little moment that happened during the four hours of playing with her “soulmate” (yn’s words). unfortunately, the long thread suddenly finds it’s way onto her public twitter and not her private. what a shame that she only realizes it once the notifications start flooding in.

Genre: smau, fluff, crack, meet-online, online friends to lovers!au, gaming!au

My Prefect Crush!

Synopsis: After one whole year of crushing over your house's prefect, the universe seems to have listened to your prayers since the headmistress decided to choose you as the new prefect. A perfect opportunity to get closer to your crush, right? What you didn't expect was finding out that, maybe, the prefect Yang Jungwon wasn't just as perfect as you thought he was.

Genre: modern hogwarts au! // smau!

More recommendations to be added

#enhypen #kpop #enha fics #fic recommendation #fic rec #fanfic rec #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon x reader #enha #enha x reader #smau

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